Another Pines Family Christmas
by AnimationNut
Summary: It's that time of year again! It's another 26 Days of Gravity Falls Christmas, a series of holiday-themed one-shots with prompts that follow the order of the alphabet. The winter holidays are never boring when you're the Pines family, especially when you live in the most magical place on Earth. It's time for more festive antics and family fluff.
1. Angel Among Us

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

 **It's that time of year again! It's the second-annual Pines Family Christmas collection of holiday-themed one-shots, following the order of the alphabet. There will (hopefully) be one upload a day leading up until Christmas.**

 **It's the second 26 Days of Gravity Falls Christmas. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Angels_**

* * *

 **Angel Among Us**

Sitting on the well-worn armchair stationed in the living room, Stan's brow furrowed as he attempted to properly pin the folds of the long fabric draped over Dipper's body. His slender frame was nearly consumed by the burgundy and white cloth that piled against the hardwood floor. There were about a dozen silver sewing pins holding up portions of the material in what may or may not have been the correct manner. Dipper was standing as still as possible, an expression of amusement on his features.

"Grunkle Stan, you have no idea what you're doing."

It wasn't a question but a statement, one that was true but Stan refused to admit it. "I'm gettin' there, runt," he said stubbornly, squinting as he gathered a bunch of the fabric up so that it did not touch the floor. He stuck a couple of pins to keep it in place and studied it. "Geez, why couldn't ya have been a sheep or somethin'?"

"Because I just auditioned and they assigned me the role of the wise man who gives the gift of gold," replied Dipper matter-of-factly. "This was the only outfit they had in storage."

"Ya need to eat more. If ya weren't so skinny this wouldn't be so difficult."

"Oh sure. It's my fault. I can ask Mabel to help if you don't want to do it."

"Your sister is working on her own outfit. Besides, I started this and I'm gonna finish it. Now stop wigglin'."

It perhaps wasn't the smartest idea to volunteer to be the one to alter Dipper's costume for the Gravity Falls Christmas pageant. The two fourteen-year-olds had been in attendance when they visited for the winter holidays last year and decided they wanted to participate this time around. Though Stan never had much interest in the holidays, he suddenly saw the festivities in a new light now that he had a family to share them with again.

He paused his efforts when he realized he had run out of pins. Staring at the abundance of fabric for a moment, Stan finally let out an annoyed sigh. "All right, I ain't a seamstress. Happy?"

"I really appreciate you trying to help," said Dipper sincerely. "But maybe we should call in the expert."

"Mabel!" Stan called. "Sweetie, if you're finished we could really use you out here!"

"I'll be right there!"

A few minutes later the sound of footsteps fell against the floor and Mabel appeared in the living room, dressed fully in her costume. Stan found himself transfixed for a moment, watching as her white feathered angel wings swayed gently as she moved, long brown hair tumbling down the back of her pure white long-sleeved dress. Gold glitter sprinkled down from her wings, hair and face, causing a bright trail on the plain wood floor. A shiny gold halo was attached to a matching headband by a thin piece of wire.

"What's up?" she asked, coming to stop near her brother.

"We're having a little trouble," replied Dipper.

Mabel studied the multitude of pins and let out a soft giggle. "I can see that. It's a good try, though."

Stan watched as she removed his haphazard work with nimble fingers. She moved around Dipper with light feet, replacing the pins in the proper spots before grabbing the needle and thread to hem the material. Her toothy smile never wavered from her face, musical laughter leaving her lips whenever Dipper cracked a joke.

"There," she said after ten minutes of work. "How's that?"

Dipper did a small spin, studying the way his robe moved around him. It no longer touched the floor and the excess fabric had been neatly taken care of. "Thanks," he said gratefully. "You're a lifesaver."

"You're not lookin' right, kiddo." Stan swept Mabel into his lap, causing her to giggle in surprise. "She's a guardian angel. I know there's plenty watchin' us from above, but as far as I'm concerned, we've got an angel right here among us."

Mabel beamed, her smile shining brighter than any of the stars Stan had ever seen.


	2. I Hear Those Sleigh Bells Ringing

**I do not own Gravity Falls or _Jingle Bells_.**

* * *

 **Prompt: _Bells_**

* * *

 **I Hear Those Sleigh Bells Ringing**

They were everywhere.

On every branch of the Christmas tree in the living room, nearly obstructing the glittery baubles and flashing multicoloured lights from view. They hung on every doorknob, causing a melody every time someone entered or left a room. They dangled from the random hooks embedded in the ceiling, rested on the mantle and were attached to nearly every holiday sweater Mabel owned.

Which made complete sense, considering the girl was the reason for the abundance of decorative sleigh bells.

After the first few days, Ford managed to stop jumping at every jangle and flinching at every clatter. Dozens of times a day the bells would go off, disturbed by something or other and eventually it just became a background noise that was mostly ignorable. Dipper didn't even bat an eye, which was due to nearly a decade of exposure to Mabel's enthusiasm for the holidays. Stan would try to sneak some of the bells out of the house a few at a time, but they were always replaced just as quickly.

As irritating as the bells could be, no one said anything. Christmas only came once a year and there was really no harm (besides losing a slight grip on their sanity) in letting Mabel have her fun. If Ford had to pick between wading through a swell of bells or listening to _Jingle Bells_ being played on repeat for two weeks straight, he'd rather take the physical bells.

But when he opened the fridge and discovered a small, red-ribbon adorned silver bell taped to the light, he decided a line needed to be drawn. Snagging a bottle of juice, he removed the bell and went in search of his niece.

"Mabel?" he asked, knocking on the attic door.

"Come in!"

He entered the space, which was decked out with holly, green, gold, red and silver garland, a miniature Christmas tree with tiny ornaments and more bells. Dipper was in his bed, engrossed in his book, and Mabel looked up from her computer expectantly.

"Mabel, I have two questions for you. The first one," he began, raising the silver bell, "is where do you get all of these?"

"I collect them," said Mabel cheerfully. "Every Christmas I look for new bells to add to my collection. I've got almost two hundred. Pretty impressive, huh?"

"Indeed," agreed Ford. "My second question; why was this one in the fridge?"

"I thought it could use some festivity."

"I appreciate your excitement, but perhaps you can stick with reindeer and Santa magnets, hmm? I don't think bells were meant for refrigerators."

A sheepish expression crossing her face, Mabel guessed, "Too many bells?"

"A tad," returned Ford, moving to tickle her chin affectionately. "But I admire your Christmas spirit."

"I can relocate some of them up here if you want."

"It's fine, dear. This way I'll know where you are in this house at any given time."

"How many bells do you think Grunkle Stan has gotten rid of?" asked Mabel, knowing full well of her uncle's attempted efforts.

Ford laughed. "He hasn't thrown any out. He merely stashed them in his closet."

"Huh. I looked there. He must have a secret hidey-hole," mused Mabel. Giving her head a slight shake, she then apologized, "Sorry if the bells were bothering you."

"They weren't," assured Ford. "I just think we've exceeded the amount of space where we can put them."

"Gotcha."

"Thanks, dear."

Silver bell in hand, Ford departed from their quarters and went downstairs. He ventured into the gift shop and reached the vending machine, where he typed in the code and went through the door. He strode down the steps, pausing when he reached his lab and staring at the spectacle in front of him in slight disbelief.

There were bells everywhere.

He wasn't sure how long he gaped, but he was startled out of his trance at the sound of feet falling against the steps. Mabel soon appeared, breathless and wide-eyed. She took a nervous glance at him and at the near-endless string of gold and silver bells that dominated his workspace. They were strung around tables, cabinets, computers and bookshelves, a continuous soft jingling filling the air.

"I was going to tell you, I swear," insisted Mabel. "I just forgot. I can totally clean them up."

After a short moment of blank staring, Ford then proceeded to swing her into his arms and tickle her sides, where she broke in shrieks of helpless laughter.


	3. Warmth of an Embrace

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Cold_**

* * *

 **Warmth of an Embrace**

Stan reacted to the power suddenly cutting out in a manner he considered appropriate, considering the snow was howling so fiercely out the window that it seemed like there was a pure white sheet covering the glass. But his loud curse was hastily reprimanded by Ford, who cast a quick glace towards the living room entryway to see if the kids were within earshot of the crude language.

"Relax, Poindexter. They go to public school. I'm sure they've heard much worse."

Ford shot him a look. "You are the adult, Stanley. As difficult as it is for you, at least try to be somewhat of a good example."

Rolling his eyes, Stan got up from the armchair and approached the light switch, experimentally flicking it a few times. It came as no surprise when the house stayed plunged in darkness, the walls shaking from the winter wind.

"Blackout! Blackout! Blackout!"

"Watch it, kids!" called Ford. "Take it easy on those stairs!"

Mabel's chanting paused as she and her brother carefully moved down the creaky wooden steps. The lack of light made it a little trickier to navigate, but they eventually made it to the first floor without any mishaps. Dipper shook his head in exasperation when Mabel continued, "Blackout! Blackout! Blackout!"

"Yeah, this is real great," he grumbled. "No heat, no television and we're going to freeze to death."

Mabel squinted at him. "I'm not sure if I should be concerned that 'freezing to death' is last on your priority list."

"Relax, runts," interjected Stan, "we'll be fine. The stove runs on gas, so we won't starve." Stan cast a glance out the window, noting that what little daylight they could see was rapidly diminishing. "But we won't be able to do much if we're stuck without any supplies when it gets dark."

"Mabel, get as many blankets as you can find," instructed Ford. "Dipper, gather all the flashlights with any spare batteries. I'll get the fireplace going. Stan, see what you can make for food."

"Will do, General," quipped Stan.

It did not take long for the cold to seep into the house. Teeth chattering, Mabel arranged a pile of pillows near the fireplace and set all the blankets on top. She tucked her hands into the sleeves of her sweater and watched her breath form clouds in the air.

Dipper entered the den with his arms loaded with flashlights. He started setting them around Mabel's makeshift bed and turned them on. The multiple orbs of light in addition to the roaring fireplace were more than enough to penetrate the darkness, allowing the two to properly see each other.

"I-I-If I w-w-w-weren't so c-c-cold I would m-m-make a j-j-joke about the light l-l-letting me see your u-u-ugly f-f-face," chattered Mabel.

Dipper sneered, tucking his numb fingers underneath his armpits. "F-f-funny."

Stan and Ford entered a few minutes later, each carrying two bowls of hot soup. Not missing the way their bodies trembled fiercely, Stan ordered, "In the blankets, dorks. What are you tryin' to do, freeze your limbs off?"

The two wasted no time in diving under the thick wool covers. The elder Pines twins joined them and Mabel eagerly accepted the bowl Ford handed to her. "Whoa," he exclaimed when she took a large gulp with no hesitation. "You're going to scorch your tongue. Take it easy."

"Don't care. Feels good," she returned, words slightly slurred thanks to her now brunt tongue.

Shaking his head, Ford wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his side. Mabel rested her head against his shoulder, a contented smile on her lips at the surge of warmth that dispelled the cold from her system. Dipper took cautious sips of his chicken noodle soup, curled securely under Stan's left arm. The flames in the fireplace crackled gently, a soothing heat adding to the peaceful atmosphere.

The wind screamed and the snow pounded against the Shack as hard as it could. But with the Pines family snuggled together, the cold could not penetrate their solid embrace.


	4. The Missing Christmas Package

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Delivery_**

* * *

 **The Missing Christmas Package**

"I don't get it. The package should have arrived this morning!"

Peeling her face from where it was pressed against the glass window pane, Mabel glanced at her brother, who was staring at the silver watch strapped around his wrist with frustration. "Bro, they might just be a little late. Maybe some of the roads aren't ploughed. Plus it's, you know, Christmas."

"That's even worse," said Dipper flatly. "We managed to get Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford out of the house so they wouldn't see their presents arrive. If they come back before it gets here, the surprise will be ruined."

"Not really," soothed Mabel. "They'll just know its for them. They won't know what it is."

Dipper cast her a look. "You really think Grunkle Stan isn't going to try and peek?"

"Er…well, it'll be a surprise for Grunkle Ford."

"I'm going to check the status of the delivery online. Maybe we have to pick it up from the post office or something."

Dipper went upstairs to collect his laptop while Mabel kept dutiful watch for the mail delivery truck. He returned with his device and settled on the armchair, fingers flying over his keyboard. He scanned the information laid out in their package tracking form, his eyes widening.

"We have a problem."

"What?"

"They delivered the package. _Last night._ They were ahead of schedule and got to us sooner than they anticipated."

"But…where did they put it?" asked Mabel in confusion.

"We were supposed to shovel the driveway. Which we didn't, because it was cold and snowy and who wants to shovel when it's still snowing?" Dipper closed his laptop with a grim expression. "The delivery truck wouldn't have been able to make it up our driveway. Which means…"

"Our package is either at the end of the driveway or near the porch," realized Mabel.

In unison, the two stared out the window, at the blinding white powder that was thickly packed at least ten inches of snow high. Dipper winced. "We have to dig it out," he said miserably.

Mabel shrugged. "Serves us right for not doing our chores when we were supposed to."

"…I'm writing an angry letter to the postal company. How dare they deliver a package ahead of schedule?"

...

Bundled up in coats, hats, mittens and scarves, the twins started the seemingly monumental task of shovelling the long winding driveway. Mabel started at one end while Dipper took the other, and for nearly two hours they muscled their way towards the middle. Mounds of snow gathered on both sides of the driveway, the dirt path slowly revealing itself. Both were cautious as they dug their shovel into the snow, not wanting to strike the package with enough force to damage the items inside.

The driveway was soon as spotless as it could be and they regrouped on the porch of the Mystery Shack. Dipper ripped off his hat and scarf, face flushed red and coated with sweat. "I don't get it," he vexed. "We shovelled every inch! Where the heck is it?"

"Maybe they made a mistake," suggested Mabel. "Maybe they dropped it off at the wrong address or never delivered it at all."

Collapsing to the slush-covered porch, Dipper bemoaned, "Why are the holidays so stressful?"

"Just call the post office. See if they can figure out where it went."

"Are you crazy? It's Christmas! They're probably already swamped as is, and there's ten times the amount of mail travelling through them each day. It'll be like searching for a needle in a haystack."

"Or a package in a snowbank." At the dry look her brother sent her, Mabel grinned. "Too early to joke?"

"Hey, little dudes!"

The two turned to see Soos lumbering up the recently cleaned driveway. "Hey," they chorused.

"Whoa, I can't believe you shovelled all this snow," marvelled Soos, studying their handiwork. "I almost got stuck in it last night. I lost a boot getting out here but that's okay. I lost the other one on the way back from the Shack."

"Oooh. That's where those came from." Mabel disappeared into the house and returned almost instantly with a pair of soaking wet dark green winter boots. "Found them when I was battling bravely against the elements."

"Thanks, hambone!" A bright grin in place, Soos accepted the boots. "I hate these ones," he added, gesturing to the scuffed up pair he was currently wearing. "They have holes in them. Let me tell you, wet socks are the worst."

Dipper suddenly registered something the man-child had mentioned earlier. "Wait, you were here last night? Did you happen to see a package lying around?"

Soos thought for a moment before his eyes flashed with realization. "Oh, man, totally forgot. Yeah, there was a package at the end of your driveway last night, around dinner time. I came back to get something I forgot from the Shack, but I couldn't bring the car up the drive. I didn't notice it until I was ready to go home. So I just stuck it in my backseat. Hang on, dudes, I'll grab it for you."

Soos started for his truck, which was idling in the middle of the long winding driveway. Mabel set her hands on her hips, only slightly disgruntled. "Aw, rats. We did all that work for a package that wasn't even there."

Dipper scowled, resting his chin in his hands. "The driveway gets shovelled, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford will get their present, and we get a massive dose of karma for our procrastination. Merry Christmas to us."


	5. Some Eggnog Isn't For Everyone

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

 **Mentions of alcohol and (accidental) underage drinking.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Eggnog_**

* * *

 **Some Eggnog Isn't For Everyone**

Mabel skipped into the kitchen, humming a Christmas melody under her breath and dark green flats tapping against the tiles as she went in search for a drink. She instinctively went for the pitcher of fruit juice before her eyes landed on an unfamiliar jug stuck towards the back of the glass shelf, snuggled between milk that was most definitely expired and Ford's homemade protein smoothies.

The festive red and green colouring caused her to reach in and grab it, pulling it towards her for closer inspection. "Eggnog?" she said with intrigue.

Her parents did not drink eggnog, and so it was never in their household growing up. They also continuously denied her pleas to try some, leaving this one Christmas tradition she never partook in. A slow grin curling across her face, she happily poured herself a glass. The liquid was thicker than she anticipated, but then again she did not know much about eggnog (other than the obvious-it was made with eggs).

She took a curious sniff. "So far so good," she decided. With no further hesitation she took a gulp, her taste buds immediately reacting to the new flavour. "Ooh, it tastes like custard!"

As she continued to guzzle the sweet drink, her brother happened to walk in. His attention locked on the white-yellow substance in Mabel's glass before snapping to the eggnog jug on the kitchen table. "Mabel," he hissed in horror, "are you crazy?"

"What?" she asked in bewilderment, lowering her glass to wipe at the streak of eggnog on her lip.

Gaping, Dipper strode over and picked up the jug. His suspicions confirmed, he thrust it out and cried, "Mabel, eggnog has alcohol in it!"

The fourteen-year-old froze. "What?" she repeated, now with astonishment.

"It's got rum in it," stressed Dipper. "As in it's not a drink for people who are underage."

"How was I supposed to know?" defended Mabel. "I thought eggnog was just a regular drink!"

"It can be, if you buy it without the traditional alcohol," said Dipper patiently. "But Grunkle Stan bought it. You think Grunkle Stan bought teen-friendly eggnog when he didn't have to?"

Having to concede with that, Mabel rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "Whoops. Well, that explains the aftertaste. But other than that it tasted like custard. You should try some."

Dipper stared at her incredulously. "I will ask you again. Are you crazy?"

"Hey, a sip isn't going to kill you. Besides, it's the holidays. After this we'll stick with the non-alcoholic version."

Staring at the remaining eggnog in Mabel's glass, Dipper struggled internally for a moment. Unable to dispel his curiosity, he took a cautious drink, rolling the flavour over his tongue. "Yeah," he finally conceded. "It tastes like custard."

Heavy footsteps sounded in their direction, causing both to whip their heads towards the door, eyes wide. Stan appeared in the entryway and he paused at the scene he came upon. Staring at his nervous and guilty niece and nephew, he let his gaze linger on the eggnog for a short moment as his brain processed what they had just done.

"…there's alcohol in that."

"I didn't know," squeaked Mabel. "Dipper just told me."

"She told me to try it. I couldn't help myself," added Dipper meekly. "It was just a tiny sip."

Rubbing a hand down his face, he inwardly cursed his poor judgement, for he should have known that Christmas-crazy Mabel would have gotten her hands on it eventually. "Right. You stick that back where you found it," he ordered Mabel. "You—stop letting your sister tempt you," he directed towards Dipper. "You're supposed to be the one who reigns in her enthusiasm."

The boy nodded. "Right. Sorry. Lapse in judgement."

"Don't touch this stuff again until your twenty-one. Stick with soda. Don't tell your parents this happened." He then thought over his words and added, "You know what, don't tell Ford either."


	6. The Creature in the Firewood

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Firewood_**

* * *

 **The Creature in the Firewood**

"You know, I think Grunkle Stan invites us over for the holidays just so that he doesn't have to do the chores."

Trudging through the snow, Mabel kicked her feet and watched the powder sail into the air before raining back to the ground in a graceful manner. She cast a glance at her disgruntled brother. "Probably," she failed to deny. "But he loves us, so that's okay. He's old. He'll hurt himself if he does too much work."

"Yeah. He nearly threw out his hip getting the Christmas decorations out from the crawlspace." Dipper winced at the recollection. "Still. You think he could give us a break."

"Come on, Dipper. We just have to gather more firewood. It's not like we have to chop it down ourselves." She skipped ahead of Dipper and performed a little spin, her long green skirt flaring out around her red nylon-covered legs. "And it's a winter wonderland! How many Christmases have we wished it would snow in California? Now we have it."

"You never fail to look on the bright side," said Dipper in amusement.

"Of course. It's no fun otherwise."

The two trekked through the expansive, snow-blanketed forest, picking up twigs and short, fallen branches whenever they came within their sight. The sun began its descent as they worked, the bright blue transforming to dusk.

"I think this will be enough," decided Dipper, struggling to get a good grip on his armful of firewood. "It's going to be dark soon, anyway."

"Hang on, let me just grab that pile of wood over there."

Mabel made her way to a mound of bent and broken twigs beneath a majestic pine. As she grabbed hold of some of the sticks, there was a high-pitched squeak that made her jolt back in surprise. "What the—?"

The sticks scattered in all directions as a small winged creature burst out to freedom. Her silvery wings fluttered rapidly in the winter air, beady black eyes darting about wildly. Mabel dropped her firewood in astonishment, eyes locked on the brown-skinned creature, vines and leaves crawling up her legs and arms. Short black hair stuck out at every angle and a dress made of leaves covered her petite form.

"No way!" exclaimed Dipper. "A wood nymph!"

"She's so cute!" squealed Mabel. When the wood nymph cowered, she hastily quieted her voice. "Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you." She extended her hand and said gently, "You're very pretty."

The wood nymph studied her hesitantly for a moment. Her warm brown eyes must have been inviting, for she floated forwards and settled in the palm of her hand. Dipper regarded her thoughtfully. "Wood nymphs don't normally leave their homes during the winter. I wonder what brought her outside."

"Is this your tree?" Mabel asked, pointing to the pine that was directly in front of them.

The wood nymph shook her head, round face falling in sadness. Dipper frowned, suddenly noticing the bent state of one of her wings. "Are you hurt?"

Mabel's heart clenched at the miserable nod. "You poor thing! We'll help you find your home and your family can fix you up." She paused and glanced around at the dense forest. "Somehow."

"It shouldn't be too hard," assured Dipper. "Wood nymphs have a natural navigational instinct. She should be able to find her tree."

The wood nymph sat in Mabel's palm and the two started to walk through the snow. Every so often, the magical creature would point in a certain direction and the twins would change tracks. After fifteen minutes they came upon a dismal sight and they froze.

A pine tree was lying in a deep trench in the snow. The roots were just barely still in the ground and dozens of wood nymphs flew frantically around their destroyed home. When they caught sight of the humans, they charged forwards with angry shrieks, but the wood nymph in Mabel's hands called out to them.

"It's okay!" said Mabel soothingly. "We're friendly!"

The group of wood nymphs listened to what their companion had to say before calming. A few wood nymphs gently lifted their injured friend in the air and took her to be taken care of. Mabel regarded the fallen tree with sad eyes.

"What happened?"

"Probably the snow storm that happened a couple days ago," deduced Dipper. "This tree is pretty small, it's probably not that old. It might be just a baby, which explains why it didn't hold up against the winds. The wood nymph we found must have been blown away and got trapped between those twigs. We might have saved her life."

"What are these wood nymphs going to do?" asked Mabel worriedly. "Will they move to a new tree?"

Dipper hesitated. "Doubtful. Wood nymphs are guardians of the trees, so when they call a tree a home they stay with it until it dies. This tree isn't dead yet. The roots are still in the ground. But the trunk is nearly split into two."

"We have to help them! They'll freeze!"

Dipper rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well…wood nymphs have the power to heal nature, so long as there is still life in it. The problem is that they need the tree in its proper place in order to fix it."

"We have to lift the tree?"

"We have to lift the tree."

Determination filled Mabel's face and she cried, "Then let's do it!"

Standing on either side of the tree, they used all their strength to lift it from the ground and anchor it in place. The pine tree was just a few heads taller than they were, but it was no easy feat to keep it steady. The wood nymphs quickly caught on to what they were doing and surrounded the tree, a light melody sounding from all of them. The tree glowed a bright green, and the twins watched in awe as the roots were once more firmly entrenched in the soil and the trunk began to heal, the split repairing itself until it was whole again.

"Epic," breathed Mabel.

They took a few steps back to regard the tree, which looked brand-new. The wood nymphs cheered and encircled their heroes. The one they rescued, her wing mended, flew up to them and kissed each of their cheeks. Dipper laughed. "You're welcome!"

"Now you can stay warm!" said Mabel cheerfully.

Glancing up at the sky, Dipper's eyes widened. "Oops. Come on, we better get going. We need to make it home before it gets dark."

Mabel watched as he went to collect his firewood, which he had set aside in order to help heave the pine tree back into place. "I dropped mine. I don't remember where."

"This will be enough for now. We'll just have to come back out tomorrow."

Bidding the wood nymphs farewell, the twins hurried through the forest. As they ran, Mabel asked, "Think Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford will believe us about the wood nymphs?"

"They'll either take us seriously or think we're using it as an excuse to get out of doing more work."


	7. The Gingerbread Challenge

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Gingerbread_**

* * *

 **The Gingerbread Challenge**

The kitchen was currently transformed into gingerbread construction central. The table was covered in different sized squares of the festive pastry, and there were containers of sprinkles, bags of peppermints and candy canes, tubes of coloured icing and gumdrops galore. Ford barely blinked at the mess when he entered the space.

"Making a gingerbread city, are we?"

"If I have enough gingerbread. You're just in time to help!"

"You know I'm not much of a baker."

"Aw, come on!" The fourteen-year-old clapped her hands together pleadingly. "It's not really baking. You can make a gingerbread lab!"

"I think I'll pass," said Ford politely. "I know you'll do just fine without me."

As he went to get a drink from the fridge, Mabel decided to switch to a different tactic. "You probably couldn't build a gingerbread house to save your life, anyway," she sniffed.

Eyebrows flying to his hairline, Ford turned to face his niece, a cool expression replacing the adorable stare that had been there just a second ago. "Excuse me?"

"Your gingerbread house would probably look like a run-down shack," she continued. "I guess I understand that you don't want to embarrass yourself by going against me."

Ford was aware that she was trying to taunt him into joining her holiday endeavors. She had picked up a few manipulation techniques from her time with Stan, but her execution of them was a purely innate ability. After an intense stare-down, he finally clicked his tongue and moved to sit in the chair beside her.

"You're sometimes so much like Stan it's terrifying."

Beaming, Mabel said cheerfully, "Thanks!"

"It wasn't necessarily a compliment," said Ford in amusement. "I hope you realize what you've gotten yourself into. I don't lose to those who challenge me."

Mabel's rush of joy at successfully getting her great-uncle to create Christmas treats with her was intermingled with nervousness at the strong conviction in his voice and gleam in his eyes. "Guess we'll see," she replied, trying to act casual.

Each of them grabbing a tube of icing, they started crafting their gingerbread houses. Ford was meticulous, placing a drop of icing at even intervals to ensure the gingerbread would be well stuck to its foundation. Mabel was a little more carefree, mounds of coloured icing gathering in random spots. She happily put her gingerbread house together and wasted no time in coating the pastry with sprinkles, gumdrops, candy canes and round chocolate pieces.

"Done!" she declared.

"Perfection is not made by rushing," returned Ford, eyes narrowing as he decorated his gingerbread roof with green and red gumdrops. When he was satisfied with his finished product, he glanced up and stared at Mabel's gingerbread house. "Well, perhaps sometimes there are exceptions."

Mabel smiled at that. "Thanks!"

Her creation was a splash of festive colours, icing dripping down the sides of the house. The edible walls were sagging slightly due to the amount of candy stuck to the exterior. It was on the opposite end of the spectrum of Ford's gingerbread house, where there wasn't a speck of icing out of place and all pieces of candy were carefully spaced out and arranged in a pattern by size and colour.

"I think you win," said Mabel sheepishly. "It's pretty perfect."

Ford regarded his gingerbread house thoughtfully. "On the contrary, I think it lacks a certain pizazz, as Stan would say. I think yours has plenty of it."

"What happened to not losing?" teased Mabel.

Ford reached out to ruffle her hair playfully. "To be fair, I tended to lose to Stan whenever he taunted me into whatever game or challenge he wanted me to partake in. Suppose I have yet to learn my lesson. But as they say, some things never change."

"I'm sorry if I was mean," said Mabel sincerely, a flush of guilt on her cheeks. "I just really wanted you to make gingerbread houses with me."

"I assure you dear, Stan has said much, much worse to me. You really don't need to resort to taunting tactics to coerce me into activities with you. If you ask enough you will penetrate my stubborn exterior. I really can't truly turn down spending time with you, even if the activity isn't my expertise."

Mabel reached over to wrap her arms around his neck and rest her chin against his shoulder. "Does that mean you'll help me with the rest of my gingerbread city?" she asked hopefully.

"Can't stop now, can I?" returned Ford, pulling her into his lap. "It's not much of a suburbia with one house."

Afterwards, when a good two dozen gingerbread structures had been crafted, Ford could admit that he had allowed Mabel to go overboard. They would be eating gingerbread for weeks, but as far as he was concerned, it was all worth it to see that bright, delighted smile on her face.


	8. All I Want For Christmas-a Hot Chocolate

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Hot chocolate_**

* * *

 **All I Want For Christmas is Hot Chocolate**

As far as Dipper was concerned, there was only one drink to consume during the winter months. Even though he was born and raised in sunny California, where snow was painfully absent, there was only one beverage he would purchase when out and about. There was something soothing about hot chocolate, especially during winter. While Mabel enjoyed the sweetness of hot chocolate, it was one of the few things that he had more enthusiasm for.

Now that they spent the holidays in Gravity Falls, which turned into a winter wonderland every year, Dipper's appreciation for hot chocolate only increased. There was nothing better than curling near the fireplace, in a wool sweater and reading a mystery novel with a mug of marshmallow-laden hot chocolate by his side.

That was his plan, at least. Though it was currently being delayed thanks to a severe lack of hot chocolate in the cupboards. Dipper scowled as he rummaged through the cabinets, shoving aside cans of soup and boxes of food in search for his preferred drink.

"You got to be kidding me," he snapped in irritation. "There were four packets yesterday!"

Straightening, he stormed out of the kitchen and into the living room, where Ford was tinkering with the radio, which had short-circuited yet again. "Do you know what happened to the hot chocolate?" he asked.

Arching an eyebrow at the fourteen-year-old's suspicious tone, Ford replied, "If you're looking for a culprit, I assure you it isn't me."

"On to the next suspect, then."

Dipper spun on his heel and made purposeful tracks to the attic, "When you interrogate your sister, do it _nicely,_ " Ford called after him.

Skipping the stairs two at a time, Dipper knocked once on the attic door before entering. "Do you know what happened to the hot chocolate?"

Not looking up from her sewing machine, Mabel replied, "Sure. We drank it."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Candy, Grenda, Pacifica and I. They were over yesterday, remember?"

"I'm not senile, of course I remember," returned Dipper. "You girls pilfered my hot chocolate!"

Mabel rolled her eyes. "It wasn't yours. It was for everyone."

"I had plans to read my book next to the fire with a mug of hot chocolate piled with whipped cream and marshmallows," continued Dipper in agitation. "Now those plans are ruined."

"Don't be so dramatic, bro-bro. Just get some more."

Dipper cast a glance out the attic window, staring at the gentle snowfall with some hesitation. "Fine," he eventually conceded. "I will."

"Pick me up a bag of peppermint sticks!"

"We'll see, hot chocolate guzzler."

Mabel's snort of, "Like you're one to talk!" was muffled by Dipper shutting the door behind him. He jogged downstairs and into the front hall, where he shrugged into his dark blue jacket and red scarf with matching mittens. Sticking his feet into his boots, Dipper pushed open the door and was immediately greeted with a blistering wind. Steeling himself, he ventured out into the snow, squinting against the snowflakes that assaulted his face.

"It will be a long, hard journey. But the reward will be worth it."

It took twenty minutes for him to straggle into town, walking against the wind and flinching from the wind chill. He eventually stumbled into the supermarket, panting heavily and completely red-faced. Yanking off his hat and mitts, he took a moment to enjoy the blast of heat engulfing his body.

"I should ask Santa for a pair of snowshoes. Or maybe a snow-mobile."

He shuffled down the brightly-lit aisles until he came upon a rather horrifying sight. The shelves in which the hot chocolate should have been were completely bare, save for a few boxes of rejected hot chocolate flavours. Dipper reached out and grabbed a remaining box. "Strawberry flavoured?" he read in disgust. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

He stepped out of the aisle and came upon a flustered employee. "Excuse me, do you happen to have any hot chocolate in the back?"

"Unfortunately not," he answered apologetically. "Our supplier hasn't been able to make it up with all the snow, so we're completely out of stock."

"Thanks." Dipper walked away, almost robotically. "All I want," he muttered to himself, "is some hot chocolate. Not the Hope Diamond."

He was so busy brooding that he did not notice Stan at one of the cashier counters. The man did a double-take at the sight of his nephew slouching towards the automatic doors. He let out a sharp whistle and Dipper, who was very familiar with this method of summoning, immediately snapped his head around. Eyes widening in surprise, Dipper waited for his great-uncle to join him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Payin' my taxes," drawled Stan, handing Dipper one of the plastic bags to carry. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I came to buy hot chocolate, but there isn't any. But hey, since you're here, could you stop by Lazy Susan's so I can get a cup to-go?"

"I could. But there wouldn't be much point in it, considering I grabbed the last two boxes of hot chocolate."

Dipper's eyes lit up. "Seriously?"

"Yup."

"Sweet." His happiness faded slightly as he grumbled, "Guess I walked all the way here for nothing."

"Didn't Ford tell you I was out grocery shopping?"

"Er…I didn't really tell Grunkle Ford I was leaving." At Stan's flat look, Dipper protested, "I was on a quest!"

"All right, I think we should look into signing you up for Hot Chocoholics Anonymous."


	9. The Christmas Icicle

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Icicle_**

* * *

 **The Christmas Icicle**

It happened again. For the second Christmas in a row, Dipper went out with Ford on a research excursion. This time, instead of searching for magical flowers, Ford was in search of an odd phenomenon. An icicle that lasted year-round and never showed any signs of melting. Dipper eagerly agreed to accompany him, and nearly two hours after they set off into the forest, he had accidentally gotten separated from his great-uncle.

He was alone, in the snowy woods, his visibility hampered by the steady snowfall. Again.

"Grunkle Ford!" he called, trudging his way through the trees. "Grunkle Ford!"

The only answer was the howling of the wind. Letting out a groan, Dipper looked around at the white landscape helplessly. "I don't understand how this keeps happening."

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his blue winter coat, he was about to continue his trek in search of his great-uncle when something flashing in the distance caught his eye. Turning his head slightly, he spotted a white-blue glow, bright against the grey sky. After a moment, the glowing stopped, but Dipper kept his eyes locked on where it had been.

"When in doubt, follow the light," he decided, and did not look away from his new destination as he changed his path.

The closer he got to the source of the glow, the more the snowfall began to lessen. He stumbled upon a portion of the forest that was coated in ice, and he hastily took a moment to find his balance on the slippery surface.

"Whoa," he breathed, staring at his reflection in the ice. The sheet spread over the grass and towards a lone stone cave, embedded into the side of a mountain. He then realized that the snow had stopped falling completely, and he snapped his head around, eyes wide and stunned. It was as if he was in a bubble as the snow whipped and whistled around him.

"Okay…this is weird. I don't remember seeing this place in the journals, let alone any map."

He supposed Ford had yet to discover every abnormality of Gravity Falls, and perhaps he never would. Who knew how far the magic stretched, how deeply it entangled itself into Gravity Falls?

He took a step towards the cave and was nearly blinded by the white-blue glow that pulsed from its depths. He blinked away the spots that resulted in his vision and pressed forwards. He slid into the cave and halted upon what he discovered.

A massive icicle towered in the middle of the frost-covered cave, stretching all the way to the ceiling. Dozens of smaller icicles circled around it, glowing a combination of silver, blue and white. The colours created an illumination that sparkled off of the ice.

"I had a feeling this is what would be in here, but I can't believe it," he said aloud, staring at the magical ice with wide eyes.

Moving cautiously, pulled off his mitten and placed his hand against the surface of the clear icicle. A sudden frigid sensation washed over him, one that was different from the typical coldness he felt from general winter weather. It was as if the core of his very being was turning to ice.

Ripping away from the ice structure, Dipper shivered, hastily yanking his mitten back on. "Note to self; do not do that again."

Glancing at one of the smaller icicles, Dipper crouched down and experimentally pulled to see if it could be removed. It cracked under the pressure of his fingers and the icicle suddenly lit up. Dipper froze, knowing it would probably be a smart idea to quit while he was ahead.

But there was an oddly warm thrumming from the icicle he was clutching, seeping through the material of his mitten. Feeling encouraged, he gave a jerk of his wrist and the icicle snapped cleanly free.

And then Dipper couldn't see anything, for the icicle surged with pure white light that seared through the cave. When the fourteen-year-old regained his bearings, he found himself flat on the ice, staring upwards. Dazed, he sat up, and the spot in which the majestic icicle stood was now empty. He looked down at his hand, where the icicle was still clutched in his fingers.

"Oh, my head," he groaned, gingerly getting to his feet. He took a long look at where the mysterious icicle once was before making his way outside. He had to lift his hood to protect himself against the flurry of snowflakes that now rampaged through the area.

 _"_ _Dipper!"_

A smile stretching across his face, Dipper spotted Ford's figure rushing through the snow towards him. He hurried to meet him and happily returned his relieved embrace. "Hey, Grunkle Ford."

Holding his nephew for a moment, Ford took a step back to stare at him sternly. "If you're going to keep running off in the middle of snowstorms, I'm not taking you on any more excursions. My heart can't take it."

"I don't mean to do it," protested Dipper. "I just keep getting separated from you somehow."

"Let's try not to make this a tradition, shall we?" Ford rubbed the top of Dipper's ushanka affectionately. He then noticed the item the teen held in his hand. Eyebrows raising, he asked, "What's that?"

"Okay, crazy story. When I was trying to find you, I saw this weird blue glow. I followed it to this cave and found the magical icicle we were looking for inside. When I pulled this off, the thing erupted with light and it completely disappeared."

Stunned, Ford accepted the small icicle Dipper offered. He studied it, noting how the crystal-clear surface did not melt or distort from his touch. It stayed pristine, flecks of blue and silver glimmering inside, shining brightly when the light hit it just right.

"Last year, you got lost and found the Christmas flower," he began slowly, "and this year, you got lost and found the icicle. Perhaps it is not a coincidence this scenario has occurred in two consecutive years."

"What do you mean?" asked Dipper curiously.

With a smile, Ford handed back the magical icicle. "With all my years of research, I still don't know everything about the magic that engulfs this community. But I have seen enough to theorize that the magic that occurs during this time of year is special, different. Christmas is the most magical time of year, after all. Perhaps I am not meant to be the witness to these holiday magical occurrences. But you, with so much Christmas spirit and belief, are another story."

"I think I just have a knack for finding the weird, strange, supernatural and magical," said Dipper in amusement. "Don't you want the icicle so you can study its magical energy?"

Ford shook his head. "You found it. It's yours. Do what you wish with it."

"Thanks! I think Mabel would love it. It would make a great ornament."

"That sounds like a great idea. Come. Let's go home."

Ford rested one hand against Dipper's shoulder and the two began the walk home, the icicle glittering brightly between them all the way.


	10. Joy of the Season

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Joy_**

* * *

 **Joy of the Season**

For a long time, Stan spent the holidays holed up in the Mystery Shack, wallowing in darkness, grief and self-loathing. The exterior of his house were void of any lights, and the interior was just as bare, with the exception of the gift shop. He grudgingly allowed Soos to go crazy with the decorations, for the sake of it attracting more tourists in the already-sparse winter season.

As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to celebrate anymore. His brother was lost who-knows-where and it was his fault. Well, partly his fault, anyway—he wasn't willing to take all the blame, but didn't like to dwell on the matter too much. The holidays would have been nonexistent if weren't for the reminders that popped up whenever he was in town. The Christmas tree near town hall, decked out with plastic baubles and white lights, the garland draped in store windows and the smell of peppermint seemed to permeate the air. The most gut-wrenching reminder, however, were the clusters of families beaming brightly at one another, delighting in the joys of the holidays.

He would return to an empty house, miserable and depressed. He would think about the boxes of Christmas decorations stuffed in the crawlspace, dusty and untouched. He didn't think Ford got much use out of them either, when he was around. For decades Christmas was just another day. As Stan worked away on the portal, in the back of his mind, he wondered if he would ever celebrate the holidays again.

Then came the summer that changed everything. Dipper and Mabel charmed their way through his rough exterior, seizing his heart and never letting go. He finally got his brother back, and though it was a tumultuous road, they finally reconciled. His days of loneliness and darkness were over as he learned to love again, to open up to the people in his life.

Reclining in his favourite armchair, Stan took a sip of his eggnog, watching the Christmas movie unfold on his television set. The Christmas tree glimmered and sparkled, a few presents resting comfortably beneath the crisp pine branches. Bells glittered from the ceiling, from atop the television, from the tree limbs and every available surface. Occasionally Stan would take a look around, hardly believing that this festively-adorned home belonged to him.

 _PWISH!_

He was taken from his thoughts by an odd hissing noise and his niece's startled shriek. Not surprised that it was coming from the kitchen, he shouted, "Mabel! What the heck are you doing in there, kid?"

The brunette hurried into the living room, covered in sticky pinkish liquid. "Sorry," she apologized sheepishly. "I think I broke your blender."

Stan motioned for her to come closer and she did. When she was within reach, he gently removed a piece of candy cane from her dark green elf sweater. "By doing what, exactly?"

"I was trying to make a peppermint milkshake. I think I added too many candy canes. They didn't chop up so good and then the blender started smoking…" Contrite, she added, "I can buy you a new one."

"It's just an appliance, pumpkin," dismissed Stan. "Ford could probably build one in his sleep."

"A turbo one," Mabel agreed, relieved that her great-uncle wasn't mad at her.

"Let's pass on the turbo part," said Stan in amusement. "Go wash your hair." He tugged on a strand playfully. "If that stuff hardens I'm gonna have to cut it off. I'd rather not do that."

"Me either," said Mabel feelingly. She pulled a plastic-wrapped peppermint candy cane from her sweater pocket and offered it to Stan. She kissed him sweetly on the cheek before skipping off to take a shower.

"Crazy runt," said Stan with affection.

As he was chewing on the holiday candy, the front door slammed open and soon Dipper and Ford came trapaising into the living room. Stan stared at the fourteen-year-old, who had a snowball pressed to his right eye.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"Fine," assured Ford, squeezing Dipper's shoulder. "We just had a little mishap."

"Don't wander into fairy territory during Christmas," said Dipper seriously. "They'll think you've come to steal their trinkets and throw acorns at you."

Stan's eyebrows flew upwards. "I thought Christmas fairies were nice."

"They are. We ran into regular fairies. Regular fairies can be mean."

"And they apparently have a good arm." Patting Dipper on the back, Ford directed, "Go put the snow in a sandwich bag with some more ice. Lay down and rest with it over your eye."

"Got it."

As Dipper went to complete the task, Stan eyed his brother. "I would like to send them back home in one piece and relatively unscathed."

"It was my fault. I should have known better." Ford shrugged off his trench coat and eased onto the armrest of the chair, attention turning to the movie on the television.

Stan glanced at him, the coloured Christmas lights reflecting off of his glasses. He could hear the running water coming from the bathroom as Mabel worked shampoo through her sticky strands of hair. He pictured Dipper sprawled out in his bed, nursing his black eye, probably on the brink of falling asleep. The atmosphere hummed with warmth and contentment, enhanced by the glittery Christmas decorations and gentle snowfall outside.

Stan smiled.

For a long time, he thought he would never celebrate the holidays again. He thought joy would never truly return to his life. In this one case, he was extraordinarily glad he was wrong.


	11. Legend of Krampus

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

 **I think the rating might be bumped to a 'T' for this chapter. Because Krampus, and he's not very...pleasant, ha ha.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Krampus_**

* * *

 **Legend of Krampus**

Pacifica sat glumly in Lazy Susan's diner, using a spoon to swirl the contents of her hot chocolate around her cracked mug. It was pale in colour and lackluster in taste, but the life of exotic teas and imported Swiss cocoa had been gone for over a year. It was something she had yet to get used to, and doubted she ever would.

A brunette blur suddenly swung into her line of vision and Pacifica jumped, dropping the spoon in surprise. Mabel leaned in front of her, so close they were almost nose to nose. "You're frowning," she accused, poking at the blonde's creased brow. "You shouldn't be frowning on Christmas!"

Scowling, Pacifica batted away the girl's hand. "Hello, ever hear of personal space?"

Mabel moved back, allowing her room to breathe. "What's wrong?" she pressed.

"What's wrong?" repeated Pacifica bitterly. "I'll tell you what's wrong. I'm drinking cheap tasteless hot chocolate from a cup that's probably not even washed correctly."

Mabel blinked. "So what?"

Pacifica rolled her eyes and slouched against the back of the ripped booth. "You wouldn't understand," she said with a sigh. "You don't know anything but this life. I was raised in luxury and extravagance, only to have it all ripped away. You don't know how pitiful it is to have presents under only _one_ Christmas tree."

Cluing in to the source of Pacifica's misery, Mabel stared in exasperation. "Come on, Paz. You should be grateful for what you have. So you have a smaller house and can't have as much as you used to. You still have a lot more than some people do. Besides, Christmas isn't about things."

"I've watched _and_ read A Christmas Carol, thanks," drawled Pacifica.

"Then how about we watch a Christmas movie you haven't seen?" countered Mabel. "It's Christmas Central at the Shack. It'll be fun!"

"Fine," sniffed Pacifica, inwardly annoyed at how quickly she answered. "Not like I have anything better to do these days."

The jab easily rolling off of Mabel's shoulders, the brunette grabbed Pacifica's hand. The blonde had enough time to throw a handful of change onto the table to pay for her half-finished drink before she was pulled away in a whirlwind.

"Slow down! These boots are _not_ made for running!"

Mabel did not listen, not that Pacifica was surprised. They came to halt at the long dirt path leading to the Mystery Shack and Pacifica took a moment to catch her breath. She regarded the white lights that snaked along the edge of the roof and the cardboard cut-outs of Santa Claus, reindeer and elves that were stuck firmly in the ground.

"It's not shiny enough. How are you going to catch people's attention with only a few strands of lights?"

"It's a house, Princess. I ain't tryin' to land airplanes."

Pacifica flinched against the teasing ruffle of her hair, hastily patting the blonde strands back into place. Mabel cast a smile at Stan and said, "We're going to watch a Christmas movie."

"Good luck. The television is currently being commanded by the Nerd Patrol." Stan set the bag of salt on the porch. "You're gonna have to wait a bit."

"No problem," said Mabel cheerfully. "We can have Christmas cookies."

"I don't recall saying I wanted Christmas cookies," pointed out Pacifica. "Besides, they are way too sugary."

"We've got snowflake and Santa cookies. Come on!"

Mabel flounced into the house and Pacifica glared after her, uncertain if the girl was purposefully ignoring her or was just being oblivious.

"Oi," called Stan, lingering in the door. "You have five seconds to get in before I lock you out."

Pacifica rolled her eyes and strode into the house. She neatly took off her boots and coat and went into the living room. She sneered at what Ford and Dipper were watching (a Christmas-themed episode of Ghost Harassers) before taking in the abundance of Christmas decorations.

"There's too many bells. Who needs that many bells? Your tree is too small, and it's not even coordinated. Again, there's not enough lights. Green and red garland is so tacky. Where's silver and blue?"

Without looking away from the television, Dipper demanded, "Mabel, why did you bring Scrooge home with you?"

Pacifica sniffed. "It's not my fault you have no taste."

"I'm trying to cheer her up," replied Mabel, coming into the living room with two plates of cookies.

"Cheer her up?" echoed Dipper. "What, did she get a notice that Santa was skipping her house?"

"Well, he did last year," grumbled Pacifica, taking the plate Mabel offered her. "Why would it change this year?"

"She's hasn't quite adjusted to the above-middle-class lifestyle," clarified Mabel. "She's only got one tree with presents instead of three."

"Good grief," reacted Dipper.

"It's not just the presents," defended Pacifica. "It's everything. My stocking is smaller, our decorations are almost as pitiful as yours and we only go to one showing of the orchestra Christmas spectacular. The holidays used to be amazing. Now they're just…boring."

Ford, who had been listening intently to the highly privileged girl's rant, finally turned his head to regard her. "You know, if you don't curb your attitude, you'll be getting a visit from Krampus instead of Santa Claus."

From his position against the wall, Stan arched an eyebrow. Dipper and Mabel exchanged curious glances and Pacifica eyed Ford suspiciously. "What's a Krampus?"

"Krampus is a half-goat half-demon being who travels with Saint Nicholas to the houses of children all over the world. He is the anti-Santa, you could say."

"That's stupid," scoffed Pacifica, though there was a sudden hint of unease in her eyes at the mention of a demon counterpart to Santa Claus.

Ford shrugged. "I suspect you won't think he's so stupid when he pays your house a visit."

"What does Krampus do?" asked Mabel.

"As Santa rewards nice children, Krampus punishes the naughty. He carries sticks of birch with which he swats misbehaving children with. Children who have been truly bad and cruel get stuffed in his sack and taken away to his lair, where he tortures them until they change their ways. Myth says that he may even eat them."

Dipper grimaced. "Ugh. That's awful."

Pacifica unconsciously gripped the diamond Christmas tree charm hanging around her neck, stomach swooping in an almost sickening motion. "Yeah, it's messed up," she muttered, trying to maintain her cool expression. "But Krampus isn't real."

"Much like fairies, gnomes and unicorns, hmm?"

Pacifica faltered. When she didn't offer a rebuttal, Ford turned his attention back to the television and remarked, "Perhaps the most horrifying is what happens to the children who lose the Christmas spirit. Their families, their towns, are dragged to the pits of the underworld. The only survivor is the one who brought Krampus in the first place, where they spend the rest of their lives haunted by nightmares no one will ever believe, and the guilt that is all-consuming and never goes away."

Eyes widening, Pacifica turned to Mabel and said hastily, "You said something about a Christmas movie. Do you have A Christmas Carol?"

"Only about a dozen adaptions," said Mabel cheerfully. "Come on, I'll show you."

As the kids went to browse Mabel's extensive holiday film collection, Stan moved forwards to lean against the back of the armchair. "Krampus?" he said in amusement.

Ford glanced at his brother. "She's spoiled and entitled, but she's a good kid. People use the legend of Krampus to frighten children into behaving and being generous. I thought Pacifica would benefit from it."

"You didn't mention to Princess that Krampus is a _German_ folktale."

"Eh. I didn't think it was prudent to mention."


	12. Everything I Ever Wanted

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

 **I write several prompts ahead of time, to try and maintain the one-a-day schedule, and I've reached _Q,_ which is sort of giving me a hard time. So if you have any _Q_ prompts, I'm happy to hear suggestions.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _List_**

* * *

 **Everything I Ever Wanted**

On the refrigerator in the kitchen, there were four sheets of lined paper attached to the surface of the door with festive magnets. They were Christmas lists, each of theme varying in length, with Stan (unsurprisingly) having the most wants scribbled in his handwriting. Mabel's list was written in red and green marker, candy cane and gingerbread stickers decorating the border. Dipper's list was organized by categories and written in red ink. Ford's list was written in black ink, in alphabetical order. Stan's list was written in purple pencil crayon (it happened to be the closest writing utensil near when he decided to create a Christmas list) and everything was written on a slight slant in no particular order.

These were the lists Ford studied, trying to see what gifts still needed to be bought and what had been taken care of. Most of Mabel and Dipper's presents were purchased and hidden away in his closet, though he knew he didn't have to worry about prying eyes. The only person he really had to shop for was Stan.

Staring at his brother's list, Ford rolled his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. Removing the piece of paper from the fridge, he made his way into the gift shop, where every available surface was covered in garland and lights. Wendy sat at the register, flipping through a magazine, an elf hat perched atop Dipper's pine tree cap.

"Do you know where Stanley is?" Ford asked.

The redheaded teen looked in the direction of the stock room and hollered, "Yo, Mr. Pines!" A minute later Stan appeared, carrying with him an armful of snow-globes. Wendy pointed at Ford and said, "Your brother wants you."

Sending her a withering look, Stan said flatly, "I can see that. What's up, Poindexter?"

"We need to talk about your Christmas list. As in, I need something affordable and realistic options."

"How about coal?" asked Wendy innocently. "Cheap and deserving."

"No comments from the peanut gallery," said Stan sharply. He adjusted the load of merchandise in his arms so he could use one hand to snatch away her magazine. "Make yourself useful for once and restock the place."

Wendy pulled a face, but hastily arranged her features into a more accepting expression at his glare of warning. She took the snow-globes from him and went to complete her task. Stan smoothed out his tuxedo and leaned against the cashier counter, eyeing his twin.

"What's wrong with my Christmas list?"

"You put 'diamond chain' and 'seventy-inch high-definition television' as the first two items."

"I'm just giving you a wide range of options to choose from."

"I think you missed when I said affordable and realistic."

"I put lottery tickets and cash on there too."

"Don't you want anything practical?"

"You mean socks and underwear?" asked Stan with a snort. "No thanks."

Ford let out a huff of frustrated air. "I'd like to get you something meaningful for Christmas rather than cold, hard, impersonal cash. Ideas would be nice, considering you've always been picky with gifts you receive."

"Meaningful, huh? Let's see, I've got my twin brother back after decades and a terrific niece and nephew, finally having a family once again. For most of the year I get to sail the world with you and return to our home for the summer and winter holidays, where Dipper and Mabel are always waiting for us. Kinda hard to get anything more meaningful than that."

His tone was matter-of-fact, but his eyes glinted with the degree of emotion of just how much getting his family back meant to him. Ford couldn't find a proper rebuttal from this rather insightful answer from the usually materialistic Stan.

"…you're not getting a diamond chain."

White teeth flashed as Stan grinned. "You're not saying anything about the television."


	13. The Perfect Pair of Mittens

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Mittens_**

* * *

 **The Perfect Pair of Mittens**

Curled up in the chair, feet tucked under her, Mabel's eyes were trained on her novel. She was distracted from her imaginative realm when Stan lumbered into the room. He shot his niece an apologetic glance, extending a pair of dark red mittens, the tears and holes visible.

"Sorry, sweetie. I wore out another set."

She was unbothered, for she knew Stan used her knitted mittens constantly when he was out sailing in cold climates. "That's okay. I can make you another pair."

"Your mittens the warmest, but I don't want you to keep making them when they're just going to get ruined."

"I don't mind," insisted Mabel, unfurling from her position and getting to her sock-clad feet. "I like knitting, and I like knitting for you."

Smiling at that, Stan moved over to ruffle her hair affectionately. "Well, it saves me a couple of bucks, and the craftsmanship is much superior. Thanks, kiddo."

Stan left to take a shower and Mabel hurried up to the attic. She reached under her bed and pulled out a plastic tub of knitting supplies. Waddles, who had been napping on top of the covers, stirred and made a curious noise. He peeked over the edge to see what his owner was doing and Mabel patted his head.

"I'm on a mission, Waddles." She shifted through the multiple spools of wool, brow furrowing. "Grunkle Stan needs a new pair of mittens. But I don't think my regular wool is going to cut it. They only last a couple of months. I need to find something that'll be durable against rough weather elements, battles with sea creatures and hard labour."

After a moment of thought, she decided she would have to go in search of a stronger material. She went back downstairs, her pet pig scampering behind her. She shrugged on her winter attire and put a bright red hat and matching booties on Waddles to keep him warm. She then attached a leash and the pair made their way outside.

One of the many odd happenings of Gravity Falls was that it never seemed to stop snowing during the winter season. There was constantly mounds of snow on the ground and snowflakes fluttering through the grey sky at varying levels of strength, the snow never amounted to an overwhelming or dangerous amount, yet it also never ceased.

Winter magic, Mabel decided, was her favourite.

She made it into town and went towards the local craft shop, where there were festive colours of yarn and wool displayed in the window. She paused to regard them, and a moment later a voice spoke from behind her.

"What are ya makin' this time, Mabel?"

Mabel turned to glance over her shoulder and smiled brightly at the sight of McGucket. "A pair of mittens for Grunkle Stan. I'm trying to find something that won't wear out so easily."

"Have you ever tried unicorn hair?"

When she made it past her initial grimace at the mention of unicorns, Mabel repeated, "Unicorn hair? No, I haven't."

"Unicorn hair has magical properties. In fact, they are some of the most magical creatures in existence. It's why their hair was one of the few things able to repel Bill's powers. If you get enough hair to knit a pair of mittens, I'm sure they'll last forever."

"Gee, I didn't know that." Mabel mulled it over before saying gratefully, "That's really helpful information. Thanks, McGucket."

"I'm glad I could be a service. Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" Mabel waved as he departed. Glancing down at Waddles, she said, "It's going to be a pain getting those unicorns to give me enough hair for what I want to do."

While the unicorns of Gravity Falls were no longer hostile towards her, they were still…well, unicorns. Asking them for a favour was a difficult, teeth-pulling task. She tried to think of another method to get what she wanted, and another grimaced pulled across her face as she came upon an idea.

The gnomes were almost as difficult as the unicorns, stubborn, obnoxious and annoying. But they lived up to their deals so long as they received what they desired in return. They also knew how to get everything and anything magical in Gravity Falls. They would be her best bet to get the unicorn hair.

"Well. This is going to be…interesting."

…

Trekking through the snow-blanketed forest with Waddles by her side, Mabel cupped her hands around her mouth. "Jeff! Jeff, I know you're out there somewhere! Get your little butt over here!" After a pause, she added, "Please!"

Her voice echoed through the silent air, and she waited only a moment before the bushes to her left started shaking before Jeff burst from the leaves, a squirrel draped around his neck. "Well, well, have you finally seen the light and awesomeness that is Jeff and wish to become his queen?"

Mabel snorted. "You wish."

Undaunted, Jeff shrugged. "Didn't think so. A gnome can hope, though. So why are you hollering my name?"

"I need a favour."

Jeff's bushy eyebrow flew upwards with intrigue. "And what might that be?"

"Unicorn hair. Enough of it to make a pair of mittens. Human-sized mittens. I don't suppose you have a way of getting it?"

"No. But I don't have to. We already have a stock of unicorn hair."

Hope blossomed in Mabel's chest. "Can I have some?"

"Depends. What do you have to give me?"

Pursing her lips and bracing herself for the ridiculous request that might come, she asked, "What do you want?"

"Dinner."

It was not as terrible as she had been expecting. Regarding the leader of the gnomes warily, she pressed, "Just dinner, as friends, with no weird stuff or an attempt to make me gnome queen."

"Fine. But you're paying."

"Deal," agreed Mabel.

"Sweet."

Grinning now, Jeff instructed Mabel to wait and disappeared into the trees. About twenty minutes later he returned, two gnomes trailing behind him carrying a spool of glittery, silky golden hair. Mabel smiled brightly and accepted it, removing one of her gloves so she could feel the texture against bare flesh.

"It's beautiful. How do you get this stuff?"

Jeff eyed her. "Do you really want to know?"

"Uh…actually, no. I'd rather not be scarred for life." She ignored Jeff's resulting sneer and added gratefully, "Thanks. Really. For not making me jump through hoops to get it."

"Hey, I'm expecting a full five-course feast with dessert and entertainment. You skimp out on me and we're gonna have a problem."

"Right," said Mabel with a roll of her eyes. "Well, we're gonna have to postpone those dinner plans until after Christmas. Hope you can wait until Boxing Day."

"I'll be at your place at six, then. Don't keep me waiting."

Mabel stuck her tongue out at him before saying, "Merry Christmas!" and skipping off through the trees with her pig.

One of Jeff's gnome companions glanced at him in disappointment. "Dinner? You could have asked for anything and you ask for dinner?"

Jeff shrugged. "Eh. I can annoy and frustrate her any time I want. It's not the last favour she'll ask for. I'll get her next time. Even I can't be a jerk on Christmas. Now hurry up and carry me home. I need more squirrel scarves to keep me warm."


	14. Those Little Naughty Moments

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Naughty_**

* * *

 **Those Little Naughty Moments**

Dipper and Mabel had grown up knowing the tale of Santa Claus, and his Naughty and Nice lists were not exempted. They never caused much trouble when they were younger, save for Dipper's scientific exploits gone wrong and Mabel's enthusiasm for various activities. But they were human, and occasionally they were reminded that if they did not listen, if they did not behave, Santa would put them on his Naughty list, and that meant no presents.

They were teens now, and the threat of the Naughty list transformed into the threat of their presents being returned. They were good kids, but they were fourteen and they were twins, so fighting, bickering and antics inevitably and understandably occurred. With only a couple of days left until Christmas, there were only a couple of naughty moments Stan and Ford had to curb.

...

Dipper had unknowingly eaten Mabel's last couple of brownies, which she had been saving for her friends and when she confronted him he turned defensive. "I didn't know," he snapped at her. "You didn't leave a note or anything. The kitchen is like a bakery right now. How am I supposed to know what I can and can't eat?"

"I told you," insisted Mabel. "I told you to leave the brownies alone!"

Dipper shrugged. "I don't remember that. Just make some more."

Cheeks flushing red, Mabel responded by grabbing hold of a pillow from her bed and slamming it against Dipper's side. The two fell into a fierce pillow fight, and it only ceased when Dipper accidentally knocked a lamp off of the dresser. It shattered against the floor, glass scattering across the hardwood.

Alerted by the commotion, Stan arrived in the attic seconds later. He took in the scene and demanded, "What the heck are you two doing?"

"He ate my brownies!" exclaimed Mabel, pointing accusingly at her brother. "I told him I was saving them!"

"She didn't!" insisted Dipper.

Stan held up his hands to prevent further protests and they fell silent. "Look, she made the brownies, and the least you could do is make sure she's not savin' them for other people," he directed towards Dipper, who grew sheepish. "Yellin' at your brother isn't gonna make the brownies come back," he then spoke to Mabel. "You're old enough to work out your problems without wreckin' the place. Keep fightin' and I'm takin' your presents back."

Dipper glanced at his sister, suddenly guilty that he hadn't apologized immediately like he should have. "Sorry," he said sincerely. "I can help you make more brownies, if you want."

Mabel smiled at him. "Thanks. I'd like that."

"But first you runts are gonna put on some shoes, clean up this mess and give me money for a new lamp."

…

To anyone who referenced the stereotype that girls took forever in the shower, Mabel wanted to introduce them to her brother. He could spend up to a good forty minutes under the hot spray, methodically lathering and rinsing his brunette strands. She often managed to beat Dipper to the shower in the mornings when she was in a rush, but this was not one of those days.

"Dipper!" she called, rapping soundly on the wooden door. "Dipper, I need to get ready! I'm supposed to be meeting Candy and Grenda in a half hour!"

There was no answer. Whether he could not hear her over the water or was purposefully ignoring her, she did not know. Huffing out a frustrated breath, she turned on her heel and strode down to the main floor. The second-floor bathroom was the only one with a bath and shower, and an idea was brewing on how to coax her brother out.

She shrugged on a jacket and her boots before venturing outside. She made her way to the fuse box attached to the side of the Shack. She squinted at the worn out labels stuck beside each switch before locating the one she wanted and flicking it.

The electricity to the bathroom upstairs shut off, and Mabel could see through the window that it was now in complete darkness. She could hear Dipper shout out and she snickered. "Ha. That'll get him out of the shower."

A hand landed on her shoulder and she jumped, snapping her head around in surprise. Ford stared down at her, lips curled in a disapproving frown. "That was unnecessary, wouldn't you say?"

Mabel flushed, smiling nervously. "I'm saving you some money on your water bill."

"Dipper may take quite a bit of time in the shower, but so do you most days. I don't recall him using any tactics to force you out of the bathroom."

"But I have plans!" she protested. "I have to get ready!"

"Is there a reason why you can't have your shower tonight?"

Mabel hesitated, and then admitted, "No."

Ford reached over and flicked the switch back into place, lighting the second-floor bathroom once more. "I know you're frustrated, but you don't take it out on your brother. It doesn't end well. I should know."

"I'm sorry," whispered Mabel.

Ford ran his fingers through her hair, expression softening. "I know. It's natural for siblings to fight, but you shouldn't resort to underhanded tricks. It is Christmas, you know. Presents can mysteriously disappear."

Mabel tilted her head to the side, smiling innocently. "Christmas isn't about the presents. It's about family."

Hiding his amusement, he replied, "Smart-aleck. Go get ready before you're late."

…

Their threats were empty and they knew it, for they could never bring themselves to deny Dipper and Mabel presents on Christmas morning. Everyone was naughty to some degree. It was human nature. Dipper and Mabel were fantastic kids, and if there was ever anyone stupid enough to say otherwise…

Well, in that case, it would be Stan and Ford who ended up on the Naughty list.


	15. Holiday Kitchen Mishap

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Oven_**

* * *

 **Holiday Kitchen Mishap**

Mabel was well-used to operating an oven. With parents that were workaholics and babysitters who weren't very creative with cooking, she learned quickly. She'd been using the oven and stove before she was perhaps old enough to do so. But she was always careful, always attentive, and used oven mitts.

Well…most of the time.

When she was in a rush, she sometimes forgot. And as she detected the smell of burning sugar cookies, she was up and flying through the Shack to investigate. She spotted her snowman-shaped timer on the counter, ticking insistently. Her eyes swivelled to the clock stationed near the kitchen door and hissed out, "Sugar!"

Her ever reliable timer had finally failed her, some mechanism on the inside breaking so that it did not go off when it was supposed to. She hurried towards the oven, yanked open the door and grabbed hold of the metal tray without thinking.

 _"_ _Ouch!"_

She jerked backwards, the tray clattering to the floor and sending cookies scattering in all directions. Her fingers already red and blistering, she rushed towards the sink, cranking the tap to 'cold'. She stuck her aching hands underneath the spray of water just as Ford hurried into the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" he asked in concern.

"I burnt myself," she answered, flinching against the sting.

Ford spotted the open oven and strode forwards, avoiding pieces of broken cookie. He closed the door and turned off the heat. He spotted a pair of green and red oven mitts on the counter. "You were wearing your oven mitts, weren't you?"

Mabel shifted her eyes back and forth. "Er…I sorta lost my brain for a second. The cookies were burning and all I could think of was that I had to get them out. Then the oven bit me."

"You ought to be more careful," Ford chided. He went to stand beside Mabel and gently took her wrist, removing her hand from the cold water and inspecting her burn. "Wet some gauze and wrap it around the burn."

Mabel nodded and hurried to retrieve the first-aid item. She returned a minute later with a long piece of the sturdy bandage and doused it with water. She wrapped it around her afflicted spot and flexed her fingers experimentally.

"Feels fine," she declared with a smile.

"We'll check on it tonight. I'll help you clean up the cookies."

He retrieved a broom and dustpan from the hall closet and Mabel took control of the dustpan. Ford swept up the slightly-burnt crumbs and the brunette deposited them into the trash. She let out a sigh of disappointment. "So much for that. Guess I'll have to start from scratch."

"We can do it tomorrow. Give your injury time to heal."

Mabel perked up at his use of pronoun. "You mean you'll make them with me?" she asked hopefully.

Ford wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed affectionately. "I'd rather be around to supervise. This is the time of year where kitchen accidents increase substantially."

Though Mabel would prefer to avoid any kitchen disasters, she figured getting burnt by an oven making Christmas cookies wasn't so bad if it meant Ford would assist her with her holiday baking efforts.


	16. Prancer the Reindeer

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Prancer_**

* * *

 **Prancer the Reindeer**

Crossing through the living room and into the kitchen, Mabel fumbled through the cupboards for a glass, her vision blurry from slumber. She let out a yawn as she filled the cup with water from the tap. When her eyesight cleared, she was greeted to the furry snout of a reindeer pressed against the glass of the window over the sink.

She very nearly dropped her cup in shock, a yelp catching in her throat. She let out a strangled noise, quiet so that it would not disturb her slumbering great-uncles. For a minute, though it seemed much longer, she stared into the black pupils of the animal. Slowly, the reindeer stepped away from the window and began to walk away.

Mabel watched it venture into the dark night, and when she regained her senses she clumsily set her glass of water aside and rushed back up to the attic. She shoved open the door, hastily catching hold of it before it slammed against the wall, and hissed, "Dipper!"

Her brother did not stir. Mabel strode over to stand by his bedside and shook him wildly. "Dipper, wake up!"

"What? What?" he groaned, sitting up and rubbing tiredly at his eyes. He squinted at his sister and said, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Four in the morning," replied Mabel immediately, having caught a glance at the clock in the kitchen. "But who cares? Dipper, I saw a reindeer!"

"…you better not have woken me up just to tell me that."

"It wasn't just any normal reindeer!" insisted Mabel. "I looked at it and it looked at me and…it was as if it was thinking. It didn't run away when it saw me."

"Let me guess," drawled Dipper. "It's Santa's reindeer."

"Come on!" Mabel tugged on his arm, dragging him from his warm covers. "We have to at least check it out!"

"The last time we encountered a reindeer he tried to trample us."

"That was a year ago and it was clearly a wild creature. This one isn't."

Knowing that he wasn't going to get any more sleep until he agreed to investigate, Dipper sighed and muttered, "Fine. Let's get this over with."

They crept back downstairs and wrestled into their winter gear. Securing her earmuffs into place, Mabel unlocked the front door and stepped out into the cold night. Dipper came behind her and eased the door shut. Mabel jumped from the porch and into the snow, her eyes zeroing in on a trail of hoofprints.

"It went that way!" she whispered, pointing towards the trees.

"Of course it's in the forest," said Dipper wearily. "It couldn't have gone towards town."

Mabel shot him a look. "Why would a reindeer go towards town?"

"I thought it wasn't a normal reindeer."

"It's not. Santa's reindeer wouldn't want to risk lots of people seeing it. It would ruin the magic."

"Right," was all Dipper decided to say in response. He followed Mabel into the forest, going wherever the trail of hoof prints led them. They came upon a slope and paused at the top, staring down below.

"There it is!" said Mabel excitedly.

The reindeer, who had been nosing and pawing through the snow, glanced up at her voice. It regarded the two children in an almost curious manner. After a moment of staring, it went back to digging through the snow.

Dipper furrowed his brow. "Okay…so it doesn't run away at the sight of humans. It doesn't mean it's one of Santa's."

"Come on. Let's get closer."

Mabel and Dipper inched down the slope, cautiously approaching the reindeer. It cast a sidelong glance at them, but did not move away. As they neared, Dipper spotted a red ribbon tied around its neck, a golden _P_ charm threaded through the loop. Eyes widening, he said in awe, "You're right. It _is_ Santa's reindeer."

"Prancer," said Mabel in glee. "I told you, bro-bro. You need to listen to me more often."

"I do," Dipper failed to deny.

Mabel approached the reindeer and gently patted his head. "I wonder what he's doing here."

"He seems to be searching for something," observed Dipper. "But what is he searching for?"

Prancer stared intently at the twins, and the forest scenery disappeared for a second, replaced by a vivid image of a bell-adorned leather harness. Stunned, Dipper gave his head a sharp sake, the winter wonderland surging back into clarity.

"Did you—?"

"—see that?"

Mabel and Dipper gaped at each other, then at Prancer, who waited patiently. "All right," Mabel finally spoke, voice laced with determination, "he lost his harness and we're going to help him find it."

"Did you lose it around here?" Dipper asked the reindeer.

Prancer lowered his head before raising it again. He continued pawing through the snow and the twins joined, shoving aside large chunks of powdery snow with their mitten-clad hands. After a while of intense searching, Dipper felt an odd sensation, something that compelled him to look upwards.

Craning his neck, he stared up at the high-looming tree branches, a grin splitting across his face at the sight of the glimmering golden harness caught between the twigs. Before he could voice his discovery Mabel beat him to it, saying eagerly, "Dipper, it's up in the trees!"

"I see it." He approached the tree that was holding the harness hostage and dug the soles of his boots into the bark. He struggled to push himself upwards and let out a surprised sound as a force suddenly catapulted him upwards.

Prancer stood beneath him, using his head and being cautious of his antlers, to support the fourteen-year-old. Smiling gratefully, Dipper grabbed the branch above his head and started a careful ascent. When he was close enough to the harness and took hold of it and called, "Mabel, heads up!"

His sister extended her arms and caught the harness when he dropped it. "Got it!" she called, fastening it onto Prancer.

Dipper moved his way down. His boot slipped and he lost his grip. He let out a startled shout as he careened towards the ground. He registered Mabel shrieking in surprise and then his rapid descent was halted by something solid.

He instinctively clutched the fur beneath him, but it took another moment for him to process what was happening.

Prancer floated in the air, his bell-adorned harness glittering around his body. Dipper had landed on his back and Mabel was holding onto the leather straps that bound the harness together, mouth slightly agape in awe.

"This. Is. Awesome!" she squealed.

Dipper could only nod, a wide smile stretching across his face. With a soft snort, Prancer kicked his powerful legs and they were off, flying above the treetops. A trail of silver sparkles shone behind them, raining from the bells attached to the harness.

They soared over the snow-blanketed landscape and Prancer landed neatly on the rooftop of the Shack. Mabel and Dipper dismounted and the girl stroked Prancer's head affectionately. "Thanks, Prancer! I'm glad we were able to help you."

"Thanks for the save," added Dipper, patting Prancer's side. "It wouldn't be much of a Christmas with a concussion and broken bones."

Prancer let out a noise of farewell before hovering into the air. Dipper and Mabel blinked, and Prancer was gone.

"Merry Christmas!" Mabel called out, her voice echoing in the night air.

Their basking in their magical experience was interrupted as a window on the first floor cranked open. Stan, awoken by Mabel's cry, leaned over the sill and craned his neck up. In turn, Dipper and Mabel peered over the edge of the roof and stared down at him.

After a moment of disbelieving silence, Stan asked, "What in the heck are you two doing on the roof at five in the morning?"


	17. Christmas Queen

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Queen_**

* * *

 **Christmas Queen**

It came as no surprise to anyone when Mabel won the title of Christmas Queen in Gravity Falls' annual winter carnival. Dipper, Candy and Grenda nominated her and the majority of the populace voted for her with little hesitation. Pacifica had been the Christmas Queen every time up until the year before last when the twins first spent the winter holidays in Gravity Falls. Her nose wrinkled in the irritated way it did whenever she lost a competition, but she applauded politely, lips curling in a half smile.

Mabel, who wore a wreath crown and deep red robe with a golden sash, took her responsibilities as Christmas Queen very seriously. She judged the snowman contest, picking the winner not based off the level of perfection but of creativity. She very happily tasted every pie, pudding and fruit cake in the baking competition (and obediently followed Ford's instructions to brush, floss and repeat). Her favourite was the Christmas sweater competition ( _not_ ugly Christmas sweater—there was no such thing as an ugly sweater).

But the most important part of the winter carnival was the lighting of the town tree. It was stationed near town hall, a towering majestic pine with glittery gold garland and dozens of red, green, silver and gold baubles. Striding through the snow in her short black boots, the hem of her gown hovering just above the slush and ice, Mabel went to perform the last minute inspections.

"How's it going?" she asked cheerfully.

"It's not really goin' at all," admitted Durland, a slight frown on his features.

Mabel furrowed her brow. "What's wrong?"

"The lights won't…well, light."

Mabel stared in disbelief for a moment before snapping her gaze towards Blubbs. The man was knelt next to the timer hooked up to the extension cord and town hall's electricity. He flipped the switch back and forth, but the multicoloured lights did not so much as spark.

"The tree lighting ceremony starts in twenty minutes," cried Mabel. "How can we have a lighting ceremony with no lights?"

"Uh…are we supposed to answer that?" asked Blubbs.

Eyes darting about, she instructed, "Can you take off the dud lights as fast as you can? I'll be right back!"

Mabel hurried off, the hem of her gown swirling around her boots, her unzipped coat flapping behind her. She went straight into the forest, approaching the sector in which she knew the fairies lived. She wisely stopped on the edge of the invisible boundary, spotting filmy silver wings and soft blue auras that surrounded petite bodies.

A suspicious humming arose when they detected her presence. Carefully raising one hand, she removed a sparkling gold bead from her wreath crown. "Here," she coaxed, "you can have this, if you want."

A fairy floated from her perch high in the tree branches and came to inspect the glittery object. Interested, she tugged on one of the silver beads attached to the pine needles. "You can have more, but would you be willing to do me a favour?"

The fairy studied Mabel for a moment, beady eyes flickering to the multiple beads strung into Mabel's crown. She gave a nod of agreement and the brunette's shoulders sagged slightly with relief.

"Thanks! Listen, can you please…"

She whispered her favour into the fairy's ear. The magical creature made a noise of understanding, called out to a few fellow fairies, and went off to complete her task. Mabel cast a glance at her watch, heart pounding a little faster when she realized it was almost crunch time.

"It's a good thing Christmas is the season for miracles. Otherwise I would be a little more freaked out."

…

Exactly twenty minutes later, Mabel stood in front of the Christmas tree, in sight of the sizable crowd surrounding her. A gentle snowfall added to the warm, festive atmosphere, and Mabel let out a quiet sigh of relief that she had gotten everything ready in time.

"Thank you everyone for joining me here today. Christmas is without a doubt my favourite time of year, and I'm really happy that I get to spend it in my favourite place with my favourite people. I'm honoured that you chose me to be your Christmas Queen. It's going to be a great winter carnival, as it always is, and so let's kick it off. Let there be light!"

The tree flared with a white-yellow brightness, a soothing glow illuminating the shiny ornaments. The crowd erupted into applause and Mabel sidestepped out of the way so that everyone could get a full view of the tree. She moved her way towards Dipper and her great-uncles, who were near the front.

"Great job, pumpkin," said Stan, ruffling her hair affectionately.

"You're beautiful," added Ford with a smile. "I can't think of anyone better suited for the title."

Dipper squinted at the tree. "Wait…I thought the lights were supposed to be multicoloured. Did you change them?"

"Blubbs and Durland took them down with surprising speed. They weren't working," admitted Mabel. "So I had to find a creative solution."

Looking closer, Dipper noticed that the lights were wiggling slightly. Astounded, he asked, "Are those fireflies?"

"Hey, I didn't have much time to work with. I asked the fairies to help me out. They gathered some fireflies and arranged them on the tree." Mabel tucked her hands behind her back and smiled brightly. "I think it looks way better this way."

Dipper eyed her crown, once shimmering with beads, now empty. Smiling slightly, he said, "Yeah. Me too."

Stan and Ford exchanged amused glances. "Definitely the only choice for Christmas Queen," said Ford, settling a hand on her shoulder.

"Without a doubt," agreed Stan.


	18. Christmas With the Grunkles

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Relatives_**

* * *

 **Christmas With the Grunkles**

The holidays were a time to spend with family. For those who lived far away to reunite with loved ones, for extended family to join together and celebrate, to create everlasting memories and bicker as only relatives can do.

Christmas had always been special for Dipper and Mabel. Though their parents worked a lot, it was the one day they managed to have off. They would open presents together in the morning, watch movies in the afternoon and have a full feast for dinner.

Now that they spent the holidays with their great-uncles, Dipper and Mabel started to notice differences in the ways that they celebrated. Their parents would always wake them up early and they would be neatly dressed. Dipper and Mabel were often the ones to wake up their great-uncles, Stan in particular, since he liked to sleep in. There was no getting dressed and the day was spent in their pajamas. Their first Christmas dinner in Gravity Falls consisted of Chinese food, something their parents would never consider.

It was much more fun spending Christmas with their great-uncles.

Ford would take Dipper on research excursions, with Mabel tagging along occasionally. The topics of their research included searching for a tribe of miniature abominable snowmen, magical icicles and crystals that could be used as an alternative source of energy. He would help Mabel with her holiday baking (even if it took a bit of insistence) and by the end they would be covered in flour, sprinkles and icing. When the wind howled and snow raged and they couldn't go outside, he would tell them tales of his time in the portal, keeping them entertained. If they happened to come down with a cold, they didn't have to fend for themselves. Ford would make them a special tea for their symptoms.

Stan would let them stay up until the wee hours of the morning, watching movies and playing video games. He would help Mabel with her holiday crafts, enduring through the copious amounts of glitter and glue. He would help Dipper create sugar-laden hot chocolate concoctions, ingredients including coconut, nutmeg, caramel and gummy worms. When the day was slow and the snow was roaring outside he would teach them how to weasel their way out of an unpleasant encounter with the cops (much to Ford's disapproval). They came up with Christmas themed exhibits together and crafted them, more often than not dissolving into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

Dipper and Mabel loved their parents, but their relationship with Stan and Ford was one that couldn't be replicated, was uniquely special. They knew each other's deep secrets, fears and insecurities. They knew each other's tragedies, setbacks and hardships. They went through a horrifying experience that no one would ever be able to imagine and came out of it together, stronger.

They did everything together. From getting the Christmas tree to putting up decorations to simply hanging out. Most of their evenings were spent huddled together in the living room, eating an unhealthy amount of salted snack food watching movies. Every second spent with Stan and Ford was the best time ever.

How could it not be when one great-uncle is a genius supernatural scientist and the other a professional conman?


	19. Winter War

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Snowball_**

* * *

 **Winter War**

Creeping around the Shack, Dipper formed a snowball in his mitten-clad hands, eyes darting about. The winter air was silent and he listened intently for suspicious sounds. The crunching of snow caused him to whirl around in time to see a snowball flying towards him.

Ducking, it struck the wooden exterior of the Shack. Dipper immediately wound up and launched his weapon, but it fell painfully short of its mark. His face fell. "Aw, man! Seriously?"

Stan laughed, a smirk on his lips as he readied another snowball. "You need to try out for the baseball team and get some practice, runt. Your aim is pitiful. _Oof!_ "

An icy projectile struck the back of his head, causing him to drop his snowball in surprise and allow Dipper time to escape. Stan whirled around to glare at Mabel, who was smiling triumphantly. "All right, you asked for it!"

"Catch me if you can!" she taunted, darting off.

She wound her way around the Mystery Shack, hoping to catch up to Dipper. But she didn't catch sight of him, so she paused and looked around.

"Rule number one of warfare, kiddo—never stop moving."

Mabel whirled around as Stan approached from the opposite direction, having snuck around the other side of the Shack in an attempt to cut her off. A snowball caught her in the face, causing her to splutter. Stan laughed at her startled expression, hunching over slightly and slapping at his knee.

"Ha! Your face!"

"Rule number two of warfare—don't celebrate too early!" Mabel countered, grabbing two handfuls of snow and flinging the powder into Stan's face.

The lenses of his glasses frosting over, Stan stumbled back and tripped, crashing backwards into the snow. Mabel spun on her heel and charged off with a snicker.

Dipper had snuck his way into the forest, ducking from tree to tree, an armful of snowballs. He froze when he spotted Ford a distance away, looking intently around with his own arsenal of snowballs. Thinking quickly, Dipper glanced up and smiled.

"Operation Sneak Attack, here we go."

He got himself into position and waited. Five minutes later Ford approached, halting when he noticed Dipper's footprints. His brow furrowed in confusion when he realized where they ended and instinctively craned his neck upwards.

"Bombs away!" called Dipper, dropping his snowballs.

Ford let out a shout as he was bombarded by a half dozen frozen spheres. Dipper cackled and hastily slid his way back to the ground. He let out a yelp as a snowball made contact with his back but did not slow. He darted back towards the Shack and crashed into Mabel.

"There you are!" she panted, face flushed red with cold and exertion. "I got Grunkle Stan pretty good."

"I got Grunkle Ford with a sky ambush. He didn't know what hit him."

"I think we're winning— _oof!_ "

"Spoke too soon," muttered Dipper, watching the advancing Ford warily.

"That was very clever," spoke Ford dryly, a dusting of snow in his hair. "But I'm afraid you might regret it."

Dipper and Mabel ducked the incoming snowballs and quickly formed some of their own. "Only if you hit us," she said cheekily.

A few of their snowballs hit their mark, but Ford managed to dodge the others. Changing tactics, the twins started to run. Most people who were Ford's age would not have been able to catch up. But most people did not spend decades in a portal, having to keep fit in order to defend and survive against aggressive, hostile beings.

Ford caught Mabel, who let out a squeal of laughter. "Go!" she called to Dipper. "Save yourself!"

"Never!"

Dipper charged forwards and tackled an unprepared Ford to the ground. Mabel tried to wiggle free, but he kept a tight grip around her waist to keep her from escaping. Before Dipper could make another move, a pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him up.

"Gotcha, you little gremlin. Not so cocky now are ya?"

"There's no manhandling in snowball fights," accused Dipper, trying and failing not to laugh.

"Says who?" countered Stan, catching the fourteen-year-old in a headlock.

"It would be in your best interests to surrender," advised Ford, holding a clump of snow threateningly to the collar of Mabel's jacket.

"Cheaters," said Mabel with breathless laughter. "Fine. I surrender."

"Ugh. You win this round," said Dipper with a pout.

"Finally. My toes are frozen, we've been out here so long." Stan released Dipper and slung an arm over his shoulders. "I'm getting too old to do this stuff."

"You seem to run just fine," drawled Dipper.

"And I'll be feelin' it in the morning."

"I think we could all use some hot chocolate," spoke Ford, taking Mabel's hand. "And maybe a few painkillers…"

They started to head towards the Mystery Shack. Leaning close to his sister, Dipper whispered, "We'll get 'em next time."

"Definitely," she agreed whole-heartedly.


	20. Cooking the Christmas Turkey

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Turkey_**

* * *

 **Cooking the Christmas Turkey**

Staring at the turkey resting on the countertop, Ford then cast his glance over to the recipe scrawled out on a piece of lined paper. "Maybe we should cross-reference with other turkey recipes to make sure we're doing it right."

"Why would we do that?" asked Stan incredulously, inspecting an onion and deeming it fresh enough, started to chop it. "We needed instructions on how to cook a turkey and we found one."

"There's probably plenty of methods and techniques used in which to cook a turkey," replied Ford.

Stan rolled his eyes. "This isn't some experiment. All we need is to not burn it, not undercook it, and basically not give anyone food poisoning."

"Then maybe you should leave and let me handle this," quipped Ford.

Flicking a piece of onion skin at him, Stan drawled, "Very funny. Chop that carrot. Try not to lose a finger."

Heaving out a sigh, Ford complied, having an unshakeable feeling that this endeavor was not going to turn out how they hoped it would. After he finished cutting up the carrot, he went on to celery as Stan chopped up the sage. When their preparation was ready, Stan squinted at the recipe.

"Okay, we gotta put this junk in the roasting pan. But we have to melt some butter in a pot with the sage."

Ford stared at the foil pan Stan dumped the vegetables in. "We don't have an actual roasting pan?"

"I dunno. You remember cooking a turkey or ham or chicken in here ever?"

"Fair point."

Stan set the turkey on top of the vegetables. "Now we have to put the salt, pepper and spicy stuff inside the turkey." He stared at the pale, raw hunk of meat for a moment, nose curling with disgust. "I'm not doing it."

"I've had to do more unpleasant things," said Ford, mixing together the three seasonings and then putting a bit of the mixture inside the turkey.

"…what sorts of things?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Not really."

"Didn't think so," said Ford in amusement.

Stan put some butter in a pot and waited until it was melted completely. When it was, he added the rosemary and sage and cooked it. When it was finished he stuffed the inside of the turkey with the herbs and then brushed the outside of the turkey with the rest of the melted butter. Ford sprinkled the rest of the seasoning mixture and Stan hefted the bird into the oven, dropping it onto the heated metal rack ungracefully.

"You and Mabel have the disturbing habit of forgetting your oven mitts," observed Ford with a frown.

"Nah. Mabel actually forgets. I just don't bother."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"You worry too much. How long does this thing take to cook?"

Ford took a quick glance at the recipe. "At least three hours."

Stan did a double take, mouth falling open slightly. "Three hours?!"

"It's not a frozen pizza, Stanley. It's a frozen turkey."

"I can see that," snapped Stan in annoyance. "Why does it have to take so long?"

"To properly and thoroughly cook the meat inside out. It's not safe to eat undercooked meat."

"Great," grumbled Stan. "Guess we'll see how this sucker turns out in three hours."

…

Turns out they didn't have to wait nearly as long. An hour after they placed the turkey in the oven, they were alerted by the strong stench of smoke. When they rushed into the kitchen it was to see an orange glow behind the oven door.

There was a brief moment of initial panic, a lot of hollering and swearing and some shoving. Stan rushed over and yanked open the door, flinching back as the flames flickered out. Ford hastily came up behind him and slammed the door shut once again.

"We have to let the flames die out!" he snapped. "Giving them oxygen is only going to make things worse."

"But the turkey!" Stan protested.

"Never mind the turkey!"

They stood and waited, and eventually the flames extinguished by themselves. Slipping on oven mitts, Ford gingerly removed the scorched foil pan. Squinting at the bottom of the oven and noticing burn chunks, he identified the problem.

"You spilled the drippings when you put the turkey in," he said tiredly. "That's what started the fire."

Stan blinked. Then he shrugged. "Good thing this was a test run. If we tried this for the first time on Christmas Day we'd end up having Chinese food. Again."


	21. What I Don't Want For Christmas

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

 **Pretty sure this is the last Pines Family Christmas I'll do. Finding words in the last stretch of the alphabet to fit the theme was hard, ha ha.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Underwear_**

* * *

 **What I Don't Want For Christmas**

Stan had a strong appreciation for material items, especially cold hard cash. He knew this and wasn't ashamed of it. It wasn't important in life, and he loved his family above all else. Money was simply the second thing he loved most in life. Growing up in a household that often struggled to meet ends with a father who was a notorious cheapskate meant he hardly had an allowance or got what he wanted. It was why he was determined not to spend his hard-earned fortune recklessly.

He would always remember the Christmases he had as a kid, spotting the modest pile of brightly-wrapped gifts under the tree. It was the one time of year Ford got his fancy science sets and he received race cars and wrestlers. But once they hit a certain age, the presents dwindled, their father deeming them too old and their mother having no choice but to comply. Every Christmas after they turned ten, they got three gifts each.

There was only one gift Stan received every single year, since the day he was born until the day his father kicked him out.

Underwear.

Peeling back the Santa Claus wrapping paper, only to see black briefs in place of a shiny new toy was disappointing as a child. He resigned himself to it as a teenager, wrinkling his nose at the plastic packaging of underwear. He tried arguing the point with his father, that underwear was not a gift, it was a necessity, and necessities shouldn't be considered Christmas presents.

It was an argument Stan never one, and while spending many decades letting Christmas pass by left him feeling lonely and depressed, he was content by one fact. He wouldn't be receiving any more bundles of bargain boxers.

It wasn't that he was ungrateful. His parents had done their best to give them good Christmases when they were children. When they got older, there simply wasn't enough extra money to keep it up. But he didn't understand why one of his gifts, _every year_ , had to be underwear.

Stan would grudgingly, silently admit that perhaps he had inherited some aspects of Filbrick Pines' personality (aspects that he tried not to dwell on). But he refused to ever give underwear as a Christmas present. So when Dipper and Mabel spent their first Christmas in Gravity Falls, there was not a single package of underwear to be seen.

And this year, when Dipper happened to hear his great-uncle's rant on why underwear was _not_ Christmas present, he immediately went out without Stan's knowledge and bought him a Christmas gift. A packet of candy-cane decorated underwear.

Dipper knows Stan is really going to lay into him for this stunt, but the look on his face will be more than enough of a reward.


	22. Volunteer Elf

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Volunteer_**

* * *

 **Volunteer Elf**

Walking across the scuffed hardwood floor, Mabel approached the candle rack. She studied her choices and selected one in which the label advertised an apple cider smell. Before she could take an experimental sniff, she heard a slight commotion coming from the front of the shop. Intrigued, her natural curiosity lured her in that direction, where she paused behind a shelf of cutesy calendars.

"Please," a little girl pleaded, clutching a crystal angel to her chest. "I can come back later with the rest of the money."

The cashier behind the counter looked sincerely sympathetic. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I really am. But you don't even have half of what you need. I just can't give it to you."

The girl's eyes glossed with tears. "But…I wanted to give it to my mom for a Christmas present."

Mabel's heart ached, and she noticed a collection of coins on the surface of the counter. She strode forwards and dug into her purse, removing a couple of bills. "Here," she said, leaning over the startled girl and handing them to the cashier. "Will this cover it?"

Quickly counting, the cashier smiled. "Yes. I'll get the change."

"Keep it," said Mabel. Turning to the red-haired girl, she said cheerfully, "That's a very pretty angel. I'm sure your mom will love it."

Her freckled face lit up and she tackled Mabel in a hug. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Don't mention it. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas!"

She rushed out of the shop with a glow about her. The cashier turned to Mabel and said gratefully, "That was really nice of you to do that."

"It was really nothing," insisted Mabel.

"I wanted to give it to her, but store policy just wouldn't allow it. If the cash doesn't match the sales at the end of the day, I'm in trouble. Her mother will appreciate the gift. They've fallen on hard times lately."

Mabel had not missed how the girl was not wearing enough layers for the cold weather, or how her boots were ripped and had holes. Frowning softly at that, she bid the cashier goodbye before leaving the quaint shop, forgetting about her candle search.

She had a much more important quest to go on.

…

Stan and Ford were playing a game of cards in the living room when she returned. Shrugging off her jacket and slinging it over the arm of the chair, she ventured towards the slim foldable table they were sitting at.

"Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Course you can, pumpkin. What's up?"

Stan and Ford instantly locked attentive gazes on her. "I was at Michelle's, the craft store in town, and there was a little redhead girl who wanted to buy a gift for her mother. But she didn't have enough money and was really upset. I got it for her, and the cashier told me that her family was having a hard time this year. I was wondering if you might know who she was."

Ford thought for a moment. "I don't know her first name, but I believe her surname is Hannigan. Her father runs an online business and it isn't doing so well. He's taken a part-time job and he's doing what he can."

"I didn't know anyone in Gravity Falls was having financial difficulty," said Mabel quietly.

"Every place suffers from hard times, kiddo. It's life, unfortunately. But you know what makes some days more bearable others?" Stan tapped her chin affectionately. "People like you."

"I'd like to help more, if I can. But I need some help."

Ford regarded her curiously. "What do you need?"

"I want to give the Hannigan family a Christmas. I think everyone deserves a Christmas, and if I can help give someone that, I want to do it."

Stan exchanged looks with Ford and they both smiled. "Tell us what you want us to do and we'll get on it," assured Ford. "I'm sure your brother will love to help as well."

Grinning widely, Mabel exclaimed, "Thank you!" She hugged them both and charged upstairs, her mind already racing with ideas on how to make this Christmas special for the Hannigan family.

…

"Dad, how come Mr. Jones asked you to chop firewood? Doesn't this town have a lumberjack for that?"

Trudging through the snow pulling a sleigh loaded with logs of wood, Jack Hannigan looked at his son. "I'm sure the Corduroy family is especially busy this time of year. I don't mind helping. It is my job, after all."

Sean wrinkled his nose. "I don't see why he can't do it himself."

"Don't be rude," his mother chided. "Mr. Jones has been very kind to us. Besides, it gives us a chance to spend the day together."

"I had fun," Sarah spoke, holding the hand of her toddler brother Patrick. "I wish there was a tree small enough for us to chop down."

Exchanging glances with her husband, Danielle said carefully, "Maybe we'll have a look tomorrow."

After dropping the wood off at the shop, the Hannigan family made their way home. Sarah rushed ahead of the others and burst through the front door. The small foyer was attached to the living room, and after staring in disbelief at the sight before her she let out a shriek.

"What's wrong?" Jack exclaimed, rushing to join her, the rest of his family not far behind.

They were all bereft of speech for a moment as they took in the state of their living room. A Christmas tree stood in front of the living room window, gold garland and white lights already glinting between the branches. There were boxes of ornaments resting neatly under it, painted pinecones, sparkly baubles and crystal angels. There were over a dozen presents neatly wrapped and there were stockings attached to the fireplace, already bulging with Christmas treats. There were plastics bags near the kitchen, enough food for a Christmas meal.

"We have a tree!" squealed Sarah. "Can we decorate it? Please?"

"Who—Who did all this?" whispered Danielle.

"Santa," said Sarah simply.

Sean rolled his eyes. "It's not Christmas yet. Why would Santa come before Christmas Eve?"

Moving over to the fireplace, almost in a daze, Jack lifted up the card that rested on top. "Merry Christmas," he read aloud. "I hope this makes your holiday a little more special for you and your family. Santa is pretty busy this time of year, but he wanted me to help in his place. Much love, a Christmas elf."

"Oh." Overwhelmed by this kind gesture, Danielle's eyes welled with tears. "I can't believe this."

Jack let out a disbelieving laugh. "This is…this is amazing. A Christmas miracle from a generous soul."

"But who could have done it?" asked Danielle, lifting a squirming Patrick up into her arms.

"There's no name. They just addressed themselves as a Christmas elf." Placing the card carefully back into place, Jack beamed, immense gratitude welling within him. "Sean, help me put away these groceries. We'll decorate the tree once we're done."

As her family moved into the kitchen, Sarah hurried into her room and retirved the package she wrapped for her mother. She put it under the tree with the rest of her presents and smiled broadly.

She had a good idea of who the Christmas elf was.

…

"I'm proud of you, pumpkin. You did a great deed for that family."

The four Pines family members were sitting in the armchair, watching the television. Mabel blushed under Stan's praise. "It was really nothing. I couldn't have done it without your help."

"Why didn't you sign the card?" asked Ford curiously.

"I don't need them to know who did it. I just want them to be happy and have a great Christmas. That's enough of a reward for me. I mean, if you have the power to make people happy, you should do it."

Ford wrapped an arm around Mabel's shoulders, squeezing affectionately. "If only the world had more people like you."

"Should I worry about you running off to really become one of Santa's elves?" asked Dipper in amusement. "Because I think he's going to recruit you one of these days."

"Nah. That means I'd have to leave you dorks behind," said Mabel with a grin. "I could never do that. But I don't mind being his volunteer elf."


	23. Wrapping War

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Wrapping_**

* * *

 **Wrapping War**

Wrapping was not Dipper's strength. His packages always ended bulky with too much tape. Mabel's on the other hand, were not just perfect—they were enhanced with curled ribbons, glittery snowman and bunches of holly. Sitting next to her in their attic abode, Dipper stared down at the present he was wrapping, grimacing slightly at the uneven corners.

"How do you do that?" he asked his sister.

"A lot of practice," said Mabel cheerfully, expertly folding the edges of bright red paper around a set of knitted sweaters. She neatly secured them in place with clear tape and grabbed red and green ribbon, using scissors to curl them.

She finished two presents in the time Dipper did one, despite the extras she added for decoration. Glancing at the few items he still needed to wrap, he said, "Wrap mine for me."

"No."

Though this was the answer he had been expecting, he still scowled. "I don't care if you wrap them for me."

"I care," insisted Mabel. "Part of the holiday joy is wrapping presents for people. Besides, the presents are from the both of us. It's more special if we both do it."

"Fine. You wrap, I'll add the nametag."

Snipping a large square of reindeer paper, she handed it to Dipper. "Come on. You're going a good job. Try adding some glitter. It's not hard."

Dipper made a face but accepted the small bottle of silver glitter. He tried to wrap the underwear he had gotten Stan, but did not use enough paper and had to use scraps to stitch up the gaps. He pulled on the stopper of the tube of glitter with a little too much force and it went flying, spraying his sister with silver sparkles.

Blinking a few specks out of her eyes, Mabel squinted at him. "I'm always happy to be covered in glitter, but I have feeling you did that on purpose."

"I didn't, but now that you bring it up…" Dipper grabbed some tape and brandished it threateningly. "If you don't wrap my presents then you're going have a really hard time getting this out of your hair."

Eyes narrowing, Mabel grabbed a roll of wrapping paper. "I don't think you want to get into a war with the master of Christmas with Christmas supplies as weapons."

Very quickly the wrapping was forgotten as the two raced about the room, trying to cover each other with holiday paper, tape, glitter, tinsel and nametags. Mabel tackled Dipper to the ground with a laugh, dumping a vial of red glitter into his hair.

"Ha!"

Dipper rolled out from under her and grabbed a piece of Santa Claus wrapping paper, slamming it over her head and causing her to yelp. "Ha!"

"Runts! I don't know what you're doin' in there, but it doesn't sound like wrapping presents!"

Stan's voice and a heavy hammering on the door caused the twins to jump to their feet. "We just took a break!" called Mabel.

"Hmm. Dinner's gonna be ready soon, and that room better be the way it was before you kids started wrapping."

Dipper's hair was covered in red glitter, tape stuck to his face and a nametag slapped to his forehead. Mabel had a square piece of paper hanging around her neck like a necklace, silver glitter dusting her face, tinsel stuck to her clothes and chunks of tape in her hair. The floor was covered in ripped colourful pieces of paper, mounds of sparkles, shreds of tinsel and crumpled up nametags.

"Definitely," said Dipper, trying not to laugh. "This room is the cleanest it's ever been."

"I highly doubt that," drawled Stan. "See you in fifteen, squirts."

His footsteps retreated downstairs and Mabel burst into giggles. "This is a terrible waste of Christmas resources."

"Yeah, especially considering you still won't do the work for me." Dipper shook out his hair, watching red flakes fall to the ground. "We're going to need a broom. And maybe an industrial-sized pressure washer."

"But first we better finish our wrapping." Mabel linked arms with Dipper and added, "I won't do it for you, but I'll help."

"That's a lot better than me doing by myself," joked Dipper.

"…I got glitter in my eye."

"Me too. It stings like crazy. I don't know how you use this stuff on a daily basis."


	24. Merry Christmas

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

 **The only prompt repeated from last year, because X is a terrible letter to find words for, never mind Christmas-themed words, ha ha.**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Xmas_**

* * *

 **Merry Christmas**

When the early morning rays of Christmas sunlight dazzled in the sky, Dipper and Mabel awoke with wide grins. The two hurried down the stairs and divided at the landing to wake up their great-uncles. Mabel tiptoed to the edge of Stan's bed with Waddles trotting after her. She lifted her pig up and set him on the mattress. Waddles cheerfully went up to a snoring Stan and started licking his face.

Spluttering, Stan thrashed off his covers and sat up, scrubbing at his face. He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand table and slapped them on. It took a moment for his vision to clear and his brain to process what was going on. He stared at Mabel and Waddles, who looked at him with innocent expressions.

"This is the second year in row you've given me a wake-up call," he drawled, stretching his arms over his head. "We need to get something straight, kiddo. This isn't gonna become a Christmas tradition."

"I woke you up nice this time," said Mabel, giving Waddles a squeeze. "You got a piggy kiss."

"I don't think I want to ask, but I'm goin' to anyway. What time is it?"

"Eight," replied Mabel. "See, a whole hour later than last year."

"An hour doesn't mean much at my age," grumbled Stan. But he hoisted himself out of bed, swung on a robe, and tucked Waddles under one arm as Mabel grabbed his other hand.

As she dragged him into the living room, Dipper was in the process of waking Ford. "Grunkle Ford, it's Christmas! It's time for presents!"

With a tired yawn, Ford cracked open an eye to regard his nephew. "How do you know you got any presents this year?"

"Well there was a pile underneath the tree last night. Unless the Grinch came in and stole them."

"By Grinch I assume you mean Stan."

"I trying to be nice."

Smiling, Ford climbed out of bed and retrieved a sweater from his dresser, pulling it over his head. "I suppose we better get to those presents before they sprout legs and disappear."

The two joined Stan and Mabel in the living room. The tree cast a warm light, reflecting off of the multiple packages beneath. The snow outside fell in a gentle sheet, and the pajama-clad twins wasted no time in getting into their presents. There was a storm of flying paper and bows, which gathered in piles on the hardwood floor.

New clothes, boots, magazines, romance novels and craft supplies started to surround Mabel. She beamed when she unwrapped a brand new scrapbook, already filled in by her great-uncles, a mix of Stan's uneven handwriting and Ford's precise drawings. It was a collection of pictures from the previous Christmas and this year's, accompanied by written memories from both Stan and Ford. There were a few empty pages near the back to fill for next Christmas.

"This amazing!" she exclaimed.

"We're not as good at it as you are, but we thought you might like it," said Stan gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Are you kidding? I love it! Thank you!"

Dipper stacked his new books neatly, beside his Ghost Harasser shirt and paranormal investigation DVDs. He unwrapped another present and his eyes widened at what he uncovered. A leather-bound journal exactly like Ford's, with a gold pine tree charm and elegant fountain pen with his name engraved.

"There may not be a lot of supernatural occurrences in Piedmont, but there are anomalies that pop up everywhere at random," said Ford.

"If you're gonna add weird stuff to it in school, try to do in secret," added Stan. "And if you get caught and your parents ask we had nothin' to do with it."

Grinning, Dipper could see the research notes flashing through his mind and he couldn't wait to add them to the first batch of blank pages. "Sweet! Thanks a lot!"

Mabel received a wreath made out of pinecones and sweater and bootie set for Waddles, and Dipper got a professional detective kit with a magnifying glass, walkie talkies, bugs for eavesdropping on people and a silver pen that acted as a recorder. When they finished unwrapping their presents, they picked their way past the paper and Waddles (who was batting the scraps around the floor and chasing after them) to retrieve the presents for their great-uncles.

"Your turn!" declared Mabel.

"About time," said Stan, setting aside his mug of coffee so he could take his presents. "I don't see why you always get to go first."

Dipper shrugged. "It's just the natural order of things. The youngest always get to open theirs first."

"The perks of youth," quipped Ford.

Lifting up the first package, Stan ripped off the paper and flung it aside. He stared down at the necklace box, eyes widening in surprise. "You put crickets in this thing, didn't you?"

"Guess you'll have to open it to find out," returned Ford.

Stan slowly opened the velvet case and Mabel gasped at the glittering diamond chain that was revealed. "Ooh, pretty!"

"I thought you said my list was too extravagant," Stan finally managed to say.

"It was. But you always had expensive taste. I thought jewellery would be more personal than a television." Ford smiled slightly. "It's not as meaningful as sailing the world together, but I thought you'd appreciate it all the same."

"Thanks, Ford." Stan clipped the diamond chain around his neck before opening the rest of his presents. He received a new knit hat from Mabel as well as a pair of golden mittens. He studied them in amazement. "Where did you get the material to make these?"

"I made a bargain," said Mabel vaguely. "They're made from unicorn hair, so they should last you for a long time."

"You never cease to amaze me, pumpkin." Stan ruffled her hair affectionately. "Thanks." He carefully set his mittens aside and moved on to the presents Dipper had gotten him. There was a new jacket with his name stitched on the back, a sturdier case for his cell phone and…a package of underwear. Ford burst into laughter as Stan's eyes narrowed. "That's it. I'm taking your presents back."

Dipper grinned as he fended off Stan's playful swats. "I couldn't resist. You would have done the same thing."

"I would have," Stan failed to deny.

Shaking his head in amusement, Ford started to open his presents. He was surprised to uncover a necklace case very similar to the one he had given Stan. Eyeing him with puzzlement, he opened the lid and gasped softly at the gold chain inside, an owl charm with emerald eyes attached to it.

"I guess great minds think alike," quipped Stan. "You were always going on about how you wanted a pet owl as a kid. There weren't any pet stores around here that sell owls, but I thought maybe this would be more practical."

"I love it," said Ford sincerely. "Thank you."

Mabel had made him new sweaters and bought him the latest edition of _Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons._ Dipper had gotten him a leather satchel to hold his research materials and a new pair of boots to replace his scuffed, torn ones.

"Thank you, kids," said Ford gratefully.

"Yeah, thanks runts. You really take care of us old geezers," added Stan.

"There's one more gift," said Dipper, going over and retrieving a candy-cane striped package from behind the tree. He brought it over to Stan and Ford, saying, "It's from the both of us."

Stan and Ford removed the paper together, revealing a brown postage package. Eyebrow raising, Stan asked, "How did you get this one past us?"

"Nearly got past us too," joked Mabel.

Ford pried open the lid and pushed aside the protective bubble wrap. He lifted out the item inside, and he and Stan spent a moment staring at it in surprise. It was a sleek wooden plaque in the shape of tri-pointed shield. Curling along the border were vines bearing a dozen small leaves, four larger ones bearing their names in golden script. Carved in the center of the shield was an intricate pine tree, with four lions at the base of the tree; two adult lions and two cubs.

One of the adult lions was wearing a fez, the other a pair of spectacles, with six claws on its paws. One of the cubs was wearing a cap with a pine tree and the other a sweater with a shooting star symbol. When a moment passed with silence, Dipper asked hesitantly, "Too cheesy?"

"We got the idea from one of our history units that talked about family crests," added Mabel.

"This is incredible," exclaimed Ford. "How did you do this?"

"Mabel created the design, I helped with some of the details and we found someone who would craft it for us," explained Dipper.

"This'll look great on the boat," declared Stan. He looped an arm around Dipper's shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. "Thanks, runts."

"We love it," said Ford, embracing Mabel.

After a moment, Dipper leaned slightly away from Stan to regard the mess. "Guess we have to clean up."

"You mean you have to clean up," corrected Stan. "Ford and I have a Christmas dinner to start."

Dipper's eyebrow raised. "You've never cooked Christmas dinner before."

"We did a test run on the turkey a week ago. Had a minor mishap, but it won't happen again. You're getting pie and dressing this year."

In what Dipper considered to be a Christmas miracle (with some gracious assistance from Mabel), a feast appeared on the table at six in the evening. The potatoes were slightly overcooked, the dressing a bit dry, the pie a little crumbly, but as far as they were concerned, it was perfect. The turkey turned out great, juicy and flavourful (with all drippings intact).

Stuffed with food and lethargic, the Pines family sat in the armchair, the glow of the Christmas lights washing over them. Mabel was curled up in Stan's lap, her head resting against his chest, arms wound securely around a slumbering Waddles. Dipper leaned against Ford's side, the man's arm wrapped over his shoulders. The television in front of them played a Christmas movie, the volume low.

"Merry Christmas, runts," spoke Stan, lightly brushing a strand away from Mabel's forehead.

Smoothing his fingers through Dipper's hair, Ford repeated affectionately, "Merry Christmas, kids."

"Merry Christmas," returned Dipper happily.

"And to all a good night," added Mabel with a contented smile.

It was the best Christmas ever. At least until the next one.


	25. Youthful Spirit

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

 **Merry Christmas Eve, everyone!**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Youth_**

* * *

 **Youthful Spirit**

There came a time in one's life when age was no longer ignorable, but a very real fact of life. This was a realization that came more particularly around Christmas. Stan knew that climbing up a two story ladder to string lights around the perimeter of the roof was generally a terrible idea. Taking a fall from that height meant that there was a good chance he wouldn't get back up. Ford knew that taking part in ice skating had odds that were against him. He wasn't as steady on his feet as he used to be, nor were his instincts as finely tuned.

They knew that running around in the snow throwing powdery projectiles meant they would feel the aches in the morning. They knew that dragging a full tree home to prop up in the living room would wear on their muscles. They knew that eating great amounts of holiday treats wasn't wise on their health. They knew faring the rush of Christmas shoppers would result in high stress levels and increased blood pressure, as they had never been particularly patient people and it gotten worse the older they got.

It was getting slightly harder to complete the Christmas tasks. But they did them anyway.

Mabel's face would light up as bright as the glimmering Christmas bulbs that decorated the exterior of the Shack. Dipper wasn't a great skater but he tried anyway, laughing with each tumble he took. Their faces would be red with cold as they bombarded their great-uncles with snowballs, wide grins on their lips. They would speak excitedly when the tree was brought home, discussing who got to put the star on top and sorting out their favourite decorations to hang on the sweet-smelling branches. Mabel would bake dozens of different Christmas treats, face dusted with flour and singing at the top of her lungs. Dipper would taste test all of the cookies, squares and cakes with contentment sparkling in his eyes. Their beaming expressions at the sight of the brightly wrapped presents underneath the tree, the childish delight that they displayed when they tore them open on Christmas morning.

Yes, Stan and Ford could feel the aches and pains that old age brought. But they were able to forget about it. Because in the youthful energy of their niece and nephew, they forgot just how old they really were.


	26. Christmas Serenity

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

 **Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!**

* * *

 **Prompt:** ** _Zen_**

* * *

 **Christmas Serenity**

There was something extraordinarily peaceful about the Christmas season.

The way the snow blanketed the scenery, a sparkling white landscape, the air calm and snowfall gentle. When it was night and against the pitch black were dozens of soft glows of red, green, white, yellow, blue and orange. The scent of chocolate and caramel, apple spice and vanilla soothed the senses. The cozy comfort of being in a warm home during a blistering blizzard, wrapped in blankets and drinking a hot chocolate. Everyone was a little happier, a little friendlier, and a little more generous.

While some people found Christmas to be soothing, others found the stress to be overwhelming. The crowded malls, harried employees and the frantic rush to get the last-minute present. There was the hassle of hosting Christmas dinner, cooking a turkey and making sure everything was ready on time. Having to do Christmas cards and participate in Christmas festivities were chores for some people rather than being fun.

For the Pines family, Christmas was a peaceful holiday. It meant nights snuggled in front of the television, wrapped up in blankets and watching Christmas specials. It meant mornings eating pancakes and toast in the shape of trees, snowmen and Santa's hat. It meant pestering one another about what they were getting for Christmas until they were noogied or something soft was thrown at them. It meant decorating the Shack until it resembled the inside of Santa's workshop, hosting tours in elf costumes and competing to see who could sell the most. It meant baking treats and delivering them to everyone in Gravity Falls with bright, infectious grins. It meant laughing until their sides hurt and cheeks were sore.

The Pines family didn't experience the holiday stress. For almost three weeks they felt the bubbly warmth of the Christmas spirit, of basking in each other's company and celebrating the holiday together. Family was what Christmas was all about, after all.


End file.
